The Heart of a Symbol
by Diviners
Summary: Mickaelos was a middleman, he preferred a life where no one expects much of him but to work between two parties. Skyrim changed all that, now his secret and his curse weighs heavily on him that he becomes something that no middleman should ever have to become. A Symbol of the times, what must he do so others will not find his secret and make him something he is not...a Hero.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Author's Note:: Anyhow I am going start posting the chapters I have finished and edited for the main story line, I will try to keep updating Cynthia but not sure how often she will get the updates since this has been my main focus. I of course will write stories involving the other characters, especially Rosaria since she was my vampire character for one playthrough that I found quite fun. Ironically enough I actually most of her story already written

Author's Disclaimer:: All characters mentioned belong to Bethesda and their trade mark except for several oc's that I created for the story itself. This is a work for pure enjoyment.

-=========Break========-

Prologue

"Allo Lucia, hey hey wait up. Come on I know you heard me, so by Mara's love slow down!", grinning Lucia of course heard Nekir, but she was still quite annoyed with him-It serves him right being late, especially on today of all days to be late-for a moment she felt her cheeks warm up in anger but as suddenly as it occurred her anger subsided. Its not like he did it on purpose, he like his brother rule Whiterun jointly so its not odd that something might have come up, musing faintly to herself. As she sped through the market within the inner part of Whiterun Lucia couldn't help notice a familiar figure leaning up against a wooden post. "Hallo Uncle Jon!", waving towards Jon-taking note that despite the number of grey gracing his hair the new head of the Battle-Born clan seemed as hale and hearty as ever-grinning seeing that as always he was leaning upon the post in front of Belethor's, oops, Ysolda's General Goods store now. I wonder if its because its his favorite spot or because of Ysolda now owns the store after Belethor was thrown out for being found out as being a smuggler-smiling to herself while walking towards Jon to see what he was doing.

Looking up from the small brown book he was reading hearing himself being hailed as smile lightening up his sun tanned face, probably another tale from the Bard's college Lucia thought faintly-at least I hope it isn't another poetry book, that last one he read still makes my ears burn-slowing down to a stop, at least she thought that Nekir would probably catch up with her now.

"Hello Jon!", unable to help herself, and despite the fact that she was wearing a cuirass of highly polished steel, she gave Jon a powerful hug that nearly bowled them both over if it wasn't for the post the poor man was leaning against.

Laughing heartily despite having the wind knocked out of him, his book lying forgotten upon the cobbled streets, "Wow, easy there lass I am not as stout as I use to be now adays.", grinning as he pushed her away so he could bend down to retrieve his book, laughing eyes taking a glance behind Lucia to gaze at the rapidly approaching form of Nekir. "Oh, I see you are giving one of our Jarls his daily run in full armor today as well. You do run that poor fool ragged you know," for a moment his smile softens while straightening, a hand absently brushing the dirt off the book-which Lucia discovered to her dismay was indeed another poetry book.

Tilting her head to the side causing long waves of light brown hair slide along one shoulder of her steel cuirass, voice bright with mock seriousness, "But of course Jon, it is my solemn duty as the Dragonborn's daughter to make sure our budding leaders grow up the right way.", lowering her gaze to give Jon an impish smile, "Also to make him work for it since he made my papa work real hard to save him.", and despite her best attempt she couldn't help but burst into laughter as the sweaty and out breath young Jarl finally caught up to her. With a side ward glance towards Nekir, "Though I seriously have my work caught out for me, if such a small run like this has him nearly out of breath.", though there was mirth in her voice, her eyes still looked towards the young man wheezing beside her with fondness formed through years of friendship.

Nekir for his part gave Lucia a venomous look that soon melted as a weak laugh managed escaped through the gasps as his lungs tried to catch enough air, hands upon his knees, "Next time how bout you also run down several steps in full armor with the knowledge if you slip you will end up either breaking your silly neck or drowning. You annoying little urchin.", with a grunt Nekir straightened up, the sun catching the polish silver plate of his chest plate as the orange robe of a priest of Mara flapped briefly as it settled along his frame. Though with flushed skin tinging his normally tanned skin Lucia couldn't help but notice how handsome the gloomy and often times moody young boy had become.

"Anyhow I am truly am sorry for being late, but father wanted to speak with both Frothar and myself about the upcoming anniversary of the end of the Civil War. Then of course that new Imperial Legate and Stormcloak liaison nearly had a row. Hmmm...I believe their names where Hadvar and Ralof, though I can't for the life or me remember which one was from Riverwood. They still bitter that in the end neither side really won but of course they like saying their side won of course.", shaking his head woefully, Lucia still missed his dark reddish brown lockes despite how he cut his hair down into a more Imperial cut that she liked, but to her it really looked like was copying his hero who also employed the same style. "So I had to play the peace maker while my brother got to sit and snicker behind that beard of his while I did all the work. Remind me again when this dual Jarl idea was such a good idea to begin with it seems like I do most of the work."

Lifting her gloved hand to cover her mouth, of course it was to late to fully muffle her giggle at the hand dog expression Nekir gave them, so she was very grateful when Jon stepped in, "Well young Jarl a long time ago your father nearly caused the city of Whiterun to be destroyed with his indecision. If it wasn't for a certain man back then that stood up to confront an army Whiterun wouldn't be what it is today. Now, now I see that dark look of your face young man, but the truth is that your father was a great man, a fine leader but he realized that the burden of ruling was a hefty weight to bear that day. So when you two grew of age he declared that you both would be Jarl, equal in all things with each choosing an adviser of their own.", for a moment Jon's eyes slid to Lucia who was busy looking else where but in his direction, "And the Divines gifted us with two abled men who played to their strengths to make up for the other's weakness, while your brother was brave and tactically brilliant he lacked the understanding that is required to keep a city together. When one had a question that needed answering the other would answer, and through the years since your father has stepped down I for one agree he made an amazing decision that will cement his name forever in Whiterun's history.", a smiling forming on his lips seeing Nekir's pleasure at hearing his father so praised.

"I might feel impassioned enough to compose a poe...", a grin plastering his face as both Nekir and Lucian paled before both said at the same time in not so quite a desperate voice, "Oh, no no thats okay, really don't!", the grin erupting into laughter seeing the two young people blush at the same time.

For a moment while Jon's laughter faded, Nekir with some dignity restored as Lucia in turn gazed down a ways to the Drunken Huntsman, "I thank you Jon, I wish at times that your wisdom was heeded more often then your brother's.", for a moment Jon's expression darkened before clearing, an almost wistful smile gracing his lips, "My fault was trying to stay out of everything back then, it was to my sorrow and shame that I thought myself so far removed.", reaching out both hands to grasp the two young people's shoulders, "I just hope I can at least advise and watch your generation correct the mistakes we foolish elders made in our pride.", with that he turned around to enter the shop behind him, pulling his book from the pocket he had placed it within.

Shaking her head ruefully, as she reached over to punch Nekir's arm-soon regretting the action as her knuckles were almost covered by supple leather didn't really win against rigid hard steel-wiggling her hand, an eye glaring towards Nekir who was trying his best not to laugh, and in Luccia's personal oppinion failing utterly. The two of them started walking side by side, each thinking their own thoughts for awhile as they passed several town's people, the occasional guard saluting Nekir and bowing towards Lucia for though she started out as a street urchin she had become almost a noblewoman within Whiterun-partly because of her father but also the young woman had grown to possess the same qualities that made her father so loved now.

As always when they passed her old home, Cynthia was of course sitting in her chair, she felt sorry she couldn't have done more for her father's closest ally but give her home over to the maim woman, a white cloth tied around her horribly scarred eyes. Yet, despite her handicap somehow she always knew when Lucia was near, telling her one time it was that aura that surrounded her that reminded the former warrior so much of her father.

"Hail Nekir, and little lady I have been waiting forever for you. Do you know what time it is, and look at the sun, its nearly late afternoon. Oh and yes dinner will be ready for you when you two get back, I am assuming the young Jarl will be staying again.", with that said Cynthia placed the sword she had been cleaning-Cynthia's eyes widening somewhat at seeing it was the skyforged steel sword that her father gave to Cynthia all those years ago-strange I thought she had lost that during, for a moment her eyes clouded up in memory of the night Cynthia and Hiss Upon the Air had returned to Whiterun battered from some battle to tell her that her father and Aunt Rosaria had vanished.

For a moment Lucia felt those decade old tears start to well up in her eyes, yet the tough of Nekir placing his hand upon her shoulder helped drive back the cloud that had almost enveloped her. Turning her gaze towards Nekir, a wan smile upon her lips-for she lost her father that day and Nekir lost his hero figure as well for in his yes Lucia saw the understanding of shared loss. Sighing, her hand reaching up to lie upon Nekir's, though that memory was sad it was also a memory where two lonely children found each other.

"I know, I know Cynthia, Divines how do you do it I mean me well that's a given but how did you know it was Nekir and that it was nearly evening.", shaking her head in mock wonderment, feeling Nekir's hand falling from her shoulder. Voice copying the tone if not the tenor of her voice with his own, "Of course she will figure out it was you Lucia, I mean Divines you literally bathe in lavender so its no wonder she can pin point you but come on with my new armor and robe now that is a better question.", grinning as his eyes playfully tease Lucia who had gone suddenly red, of course the next thing out of Nekir's mouth was a yelp as Lucia's foot found his shin.

As Nekir bent down to rub his shin, and though Lucia's foot throbbed she thinking it was quite worth it in the end. Cynthia meanwhile leaned back into her chair, a fond smile curving her lips, it was nice to hear these moments, and though she lacked her sight in the end it was a small price to pay. "Well, Children, to answer you its all about experience, and a very good nose.", grinning though she did at least say a part truth, but she thought them knowing of her beast blood was a bit to much. Besides its not like its lying if they never ask how my scent of smell is so good, her lips forming a rueful smile.

Sighing in feign frustration Lucia's eyes glimmer with amusement, "Fine, fine fine I wear to much lavender and Nekir has such a strong smell that it over powers anything else.", the laught hovering within her words

"Say hear, I do not smell, I mean yes I smell now but-but thats because I just ran from Dragonreach in heavy armor and a robe for Divine's sake.", sputtering for a few seconds, which added more to Lucia's amusement before subsiding, a shake of his head before muttering, "At least I don't often smell bad."

To be truthful Nekir really didn't smell that bad Lucia thought, he rarely ever did having become obessed with bathing regularly and wearing scented oils, to be honest Lucia found that one of his more endearing mannerisms, the other one that made her heart skip a beat was his almost unquestionable kindness towards everyone. Though she would never admit that to anyone, and most of all to him.

Tutting to herself softly, Cynthia twisted her head towards the gate of Whiterun's inner city, "Well enough of you two's lollygagging, and get, get before it gets any darker and you miss the lighting of the statue ceremony. Or must I get up and chase you all the way there like I use to when you were younger, I still swing a mean broom upon the backsides of lazy younger's like yourself.", though her voice was merry, Cynthia's expression was deadly serous, she would chase them with a broom to get them moving.

With mock noises of horror the two decided to depart before the blind woman made good on her threat, both remembering how smartly her whacks were with that broom. Each grinning fondly as their minds thought of the former shield sister of the Dragonborn, though for them she was more an aunt that would on occasion allow them to sneak sweet rolls. So for the moment they were both content to walk in silence, of course Nekir due to some private jest decided to open the gate into the outer city of Whiterun while giving Lucia a bow. While others might have thought that was quaint, only Nekir saw the straining mouth of Lucia who was desperately was trying to bite back some form of insult. It also didn't help that as she walked by Nekir was grinning like an idiot.

Out of the corner of her mouth, though her eyes remained straight forward, and her smile perfect, "I am soooooo getting you back for that stunt, Oh mister gallant."

Grinning from ear to ear, eyes glittering with suppressed amusement Nekir managed to reply without bursting out into laughter-a truly impressive feat, "Oh I know, but till then I get to see my little sweet street urchin stew. Perhaps I should tell...", sidestepping the kick that Lucia aimed at the back of his knee, years of avoiding that particular attack has made him quite a master. "Braith all about it later."

As they passed through the huge residential area that encircled the old city of Whiterun, signs of the former guard towers and walls now artfully incorporated in a person's house, or a small business. Lucia growling with frustration, fighting the urge to do something dreadful to Nekir at the moment let out an explosive breath, "Curse myself to Sherogath's realm for ever telling Braith of all people Braith that I thought it would be sweet if you treated me like a princess. And curse you to what ever realm of Obivilion that people such as you go for taking so much enjoyment from teasing a person.", puffing her cheeks out before letting her head lower wearily, "How many times has that been now...for I know curse you have been keeping count."

Smiling, teeth gleaming in the light, "Lucia you wound me, like I would ever consider counting how times I have gotten you with that moment of weakness.", lowering his head slightly so Lucia could hear better, "That would be the two hundred and seventy-eighth time I have opened that gate for you in particular, now we can also include..", with a dash Nekir pulled away from Lucia in time before she could get her hands around his neck to throttle him. With a growl of frustration, to Divines with dignity she was going to throttle that skeever in a very fond way her mind made a point to include as she took after Nekir who had apparently regained his stamina to run in full armor.

So as the larger population of Whiterun look on as the son of a Jarl and the daughter of a hero ran through the cobbled stones. Guards on their patrols through the extension of Whiterun shook their heads, though they have thrown the two into jail for their antics-actually in some circles it was encouraged to put into their thick heads that two people of such import should have some dignity-none of them could keep up with the two, years of running in some form of armor having made them too fast for easy life guards to chase after.

Cynthia would have been proud, the two reached the statue that was build upon the remains of the old western guard tower way before the lightening ceremony.

=====Break=====

With a grateful sigh, Lucia leaned against the rock that was thought to have been the same rock the Dragonborn had perched upon when arriving at the site of the first Dragon attack on Whiterun. Both her chest and leg muscles were burning, though she wore only a steel breast plate and the rest supple dark brown leather, it was still a long distance to run as she reached up to push back her sweat drenched hair. The sound of a heavier armored figure moving up before leaning against the same rock with one hand, a coy smile curving her lips, "I won...by the way...why were we racing again?"

Coughing lightly, Nekir reached up to unclasp the heavy robe of Mara, letting the garment slide down to the ground before twisting around to lean his back against the same rock that Lucia was resting again, "Honestly, I forgot why." Laughing weakly, though he knew why but it was a given that Lucia would forget the reason entirely why, its probably why Nekir thought wryly that she had yet gotten him back for those moments. "I take it I am buying the next Black-Briar mead again."

Grinning, eyes lightening up upon hearing the name of her favorite mead, "Damn straight rich boy.", laughing heartily as she straighted up slightly to rest her weight upon her hands pressed against the rock to stare forward.

With a shake of his head, bemusement tinging his voice, "I think you got that wrong, you are by far richer than me in terms of personal wealth, I am just a poor Jarl with a rich city to manage.", twisting around to rest his armored back side against the rock, a hand reaching over to flick a finger against the steel of Lucia's breast plate, a pure clang coming from the finely made piece of armor.

Tilting her head to the side, honey brown eyes shining, "Don't give me that, I know full well ever since you convinced the city the merits of sponsoring the Bannered Mare for guests of the Jarls to stay in Saadia has been giving you free food and drink. And oh ho, my riches was given to me for safe keeping till my father returns...if he ever does.", the merriment fading from her voice, an almost pensive silence following after.

Turning her head to gaze at her father's statue the people of Whiterun had built for her father, too celebrate the day he was seen as the Dragonborn of legend. Unlike what most people who know Nords would think, the statue depicting her father wasn't some the common statue found in skyrim that was unlike him, a heroic stance striding forth into battle, a warrior calling forth all to step forward who opposed him. No she thought to herself, this statue was more like the man she lovely called papa, the man that came out of nowhere to give her a home but most importantly the hope for a future.

Ironic she thought, in some ways Skyrim and herself were alike in regards to this particular man, that he came out of nowhere to give both hope when none was looked for.

Eyes lifting to gaze at the statue, a giant that paled in comparison to the real man, but at least it didn't lie about who he was underneath the stories and legends that had grown from his deeds. For the man depicted by the statue was one bending a knee, head lifted up to gaze at the sky. His helm placed down at his foot, armored in the armor of a Dawnguard warrior, arms lifted up holding his sword, the famous Draedic blade Dawnbreak. Lucia was told that the depiction was based on how her father bent a knee to the two warring factions, General Tullius and Jarl Ulfric of Windhelm he bent his knee to both of them asking to cease this war and look beyond their own pride as he himself had done.

"And so the Dragonborn looked towards these two leaders, a silent question hanging in the air, are they fighting for themselves or are they fighting to protect Skyrim. Will they set aside their own fights in order to fight something that is greater than they are, nay even greater than their own beliefs. For as Tulluis and Uflric looked upon that blade they realized that by taking that blade, they were taking up the Dragonborn's sole fight, realization dawning upon them that this man has let go of his own pride to ask help from them to help him, to help Skyrim. For each man they caught a glimpse of their future, both were physically shaken when they each reached out and made a pledge to all who were present, that they would protect Skyrim above all else."

Falling silent Nekir's voice fading into the night, Lucia had found herself smiling at the young man's reciting of what occurred during that famous treaty where her father asked help from those two leaders. As they went into their thoughts, the two watched as four mages from the College took up their positions around the base of the statue, they were honoring both the Dragonborn and a man who had also helped their college grow for instead of centering power upon himself he had split it evenly among three of his closest friends within the college who had opened the door for many to learn magic. Of course Lucia thought wryly most Nords still viewed it was with distrust but since a Nord was an arch-mage as well they could at least stomach having some of their children sent who had a talent in magic.

Brilliant streams of colored flames leaped up to whirl around the statues base, green, blue, red and yellow, wrapping around the figure of the man before collecting near his mouth before blowing away to slowly form into three words. Fus Ra Doh, Lucia couldn't help but smirk that they had to of course go with the very first shout her father had mastered, though one he used often enough that it had almost come as a signature of his Lucia reluctantly admitted.

As the mages withdrew, magicka flowing into the brilliantly lit words to keep them burning for an hour as the assembled bards started up the music, faintly at first but getting stronger from the city behind them voices could heard singing, Here the Dragon Born Comes. A smile forming on her lips as she stared up at the sky that was losing its battle to night, she always enjoyed this part of the ceremony for it could last up to an hour as people sung their thanks for her father. From the pit of her stomach she felt the warmth of pride for her father, and knowing that what he did was not forgotten that she could share the same feeling she felt when he told her she had a home, to share it with the people of Skyrim as well.

Closing her eyes, she let herself drown in those feelings and as always that sliver of pain once more pricked her, tears welling beneath her lids before falling to gently splash upon her steel breast plate. "I-I miss him so-so much, so much it hurts to think of him...and Aunt Rosaria, to-to wait...", choking on her grief that seemed as fresh as the night she found out that they vanished. "Every time, I hear this song...I-I think that he will come over that hill from Riverwood, Aunty Rosaria doing that high pitched laugh of hers and him shaking his head at what ever crude joke she had told. Then Cynthia would frown at the two of them, muttering beneath her breath about damn blood suckers, while Hiss Upon the Air would just nod his head and wait.", sniffling Lucia look towards the statue of her father with tear blurred eyes, "I miss those times so much...", falling silent as she cried, at least she thought she wasn't trembling anymore.

Sitting quietly, Nekir closed his own eyes, a single tear falling from him, unlike Lucia who had lost a father and an aunt and all those moments that could never be, Nekir lost a hero that showed him so much and he regretted that he could not learn more from the man who had saved him from the Whispering Lady. What can one do to pay back that debt but to remain steadfast by the man's only kin if it was only in name, not counting his own personal feelings towards Lucia. Wrapping an arm around Lucia's shoulder before drawing her close, it was a time honored routine, and one he was always glad to perform, "Tell me about him Lucia...I only knew him for...for a short while."

Sniffling, a grateful smile curving her lips as she rested her head against Nekir's chest, though uncomfortable it allowed her to hear his heart beat. A long time ago when she was young, Cynthia had told her that it was better to tell his story as much as possible to cement his memory so he could still live beside her if only in memory. It will always hurt, she thought to herself but by keeping him close it allows that wound to heal knowing his story, telling his story.

A tiny breath before breaking away from Nekir's grasp, though she would have liked to remain it was easier to tell a story without her face so close to a metal chest. "Hmm...do you want me to start at the beginning Nekir.", though her voice was still light from her sorrow, there was a strength that was coming back to it as she asked Nekir tenatively about where to start.

"The beginning, lets start at the beginning...", turning his head, his smile encouraging.

Nodding her, for a moment Lucia took a deep breath to compose herself before letting her eyes gaze at the dusk tinged sky, "My father would tell his story as he held me, I think part of him wanted to remind himself of the type of person he was...but I think deep down, I think he wanted at least one person to know the truth that was beneath the Dragonborn. That he was nothing but a man at the start, and it was...it was the journey and the people he came into contact with, including an adorable street urchin who asked him for a single coin.", smiling to herself, honey brown eyes gazing up at the statue's brilliantly lit face, "With all good stories this one starts with a man in a cart.."


	2. Chapter 2

Auther's note:: Decided to shorten this Author's note, anyhow will love reviews

Chapter 2

There is a splinter in my ass, now with the thought of an uncomfortable feeling comes almost instantly, why is there a splinter in my ass? This would follow aptly by the idea that one should remove said object from causing discomfort in said region, why can't I move my hands? With that chain of thoughts Mickaelos snapped his eyes open, before quickly slitting them to slits as the bright sunlight filtering through the branches overhead was to much for him for now. Unable to make much from the blurred shapes as his eyes tried to adjust to the light, Mickaelos at least realized that the reason why he couldn't remove said splinter was because his hands were bound behind his back. Where he got the splinter became evident when a sudden lurch upon what he was sitting upon and the neighing of a horse informed him he must be sitting upon a wooden cart being pulled by a horse-this revelation of course didn't brighten his mood because it hardly explained why his hands were bound. So, I am bound and riding in a wooden cart being pulled by a horse. There are probably a variety of reasons that I am here but I wager a hundred septims I am not going to like how this situation is going to be explained, Mickaelos thought ruefully as he opened his eyes a bit wider so the shadowy blob started to refine themselves into a man-a Nord if his size and fair hair was any clue-wearing a type of uniform, which made the pit of forboding doom within Mickaelos stomach grow, it was never good to be bound and sitting in a cart with anyone in a uniform, especially when it appeared said man was also bound.

Perhaps it was just chance, but Mickaelos preferred that it was just a sick joke , the man across from him became aware that he was awake and in that classic Nord accent, "I see you are finally awake."

Of course, now tell me why I have such a bad feeling growing in my stomach, though I honestly don't want to know because its without a doubt going to be terrible, Mickaelos thought and as if reading his mind the Nord started speaking again-how come he sounds so cheerful, perhaps it was just how that Nord accent sounds.

"You were trying to cross the border and got caught in that Imperial ambush same as us. Same as that thief over there.", twisting his head in the direction the Nord was motioning allowed Mickaelos to spy another person in ragged clothing same as him. Why am I wearing this stuff anyhow, was another thought that flitted through his mind. More concerned with his own thoughts than the Nord's commentary-though he did at least introduce himself as Ralof from Riverwood, where ever that was-Mickaelos only gave a brief glance towards the third person sharing the cart to notice only his bound mouth and beyond him an Imperial soldier riding a horse.

So, I was caught in an ambush, Mickaelos mulled over that tiny bit of information as he turned his gaze to focus in the front, where beyond the driver of their cart was another cart filled with people similiarly garbed and bound as Ralof. "That is Uflric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm the true High King.", the sound of Ralof's voice intruding upon his own personal thoughts, though something he said nagged at him, forcing him to stop ruminating on his situation.

Hmmm...Uflric Stormcloak and High King, what meaning does those two things have? True Ralof did spout that Uflric was the true High King, but why when I hear that a feeling of dread starts growing. As Mickaelos mulled over that information, giving only a faint ear to listening to Ralof and the thief talk with each other, for the most part it wasn't anything overtly interesting. Instead he focused on his own inner thoughts while gazing at the forest they were traversing, despite that feeling of dread Mickaelos couldn't help but feel some sense of peace looking at the towering trees overhead. The sound of rushing water in the distance, almost muffled from the creaking of the wagon wheels and the sound that horses were making. Even the scent, when one got over the smell of the unwashed bodies around him, was fresh and exciting in a way he never felt from other regions he had traversed during his work as a middleman for some questionable groups of people.

Yet, it was that feeling Mickaelos found that intrigued him most and got him to stop thinking of his situation to ponder that particular feeling till he realized what it was. It feels like I am home, yet this is nothing like the capital of the Empire. Despite how he tried to rationalize this feeling he couldn't but marvel at how it had taken root the moment he acknowledged it within his mind. He felt like for the first time in all his travels that he had come home for some inexplicable reason and yet it just felt like it made so much sense.

Unfortunately for Mickaelos he wouldn't get to experience the awe, for in a moment he heard the name General Tullius being called out, but what really sent him crashing to the ground mentally was what followed. "The headsman is waiting." With all realizations there is some sick perversion where all those random words that didn't really make sense together suddenly become crystal clear in that sickening feeling, the feeling where you want to wake up from a horrible dream but can't, the type that in Mickaelos case caused him to laugh out loud in a strange mixture of joy and dread.

"Be quiet back there!", falling silent, and despite the stares he got from Ralof who almost immediately fell into telling a cute story of mead and walls making him feel so safe. The thoughts were running-more like ramming themselves against his brain-that he was being carted with a group of revolutionaries where their leader murdered the rightful ruler of Skyrim and so happens that he had found himself sitting in the cart of said leader. Though long experience being a middle man and all for several groups of questionable legal standings within the Empire, one of the most common practices the Empire tended to practice and since most times that when one had a target of opportunity presented to itself that one simply let the heads roll and clean up the mess after. Of course it wasn't much comfort to Mickaelos since he had found himself in that precarious position of being part of a group that for lack of a better word the Empire wanted eliminated.

"End of the line", flashing Ralof a brief look, he couldn't but agree with the Stormcloak revolutionary, it was definitely the end of the road so thoughts of that feeling before wouldn't amount to much as Mickaelos filled off the cart with the rest of the prisoners.

Sighing faintly, for a moment Mickaelos wiggled his bound hands as he fell into line with the rest of the prisoners, "Empire loves their damn lists." Smiling grimly, Mickaelos shook his head wearily towards Ralof's comment, it was more a formality with lists now a days. With his career he had found out that for most people it gave something a sort of legitimacy if they had things down on a list, of course it was also easier to add a few extra items near the bottom of the list. In this instance, as Mickaelos gaze lifted to gaze as the thief tried to make a break for it, he was a fool to try what with several Imperial archers near bye and not to mention how they hell would he get through any of the gates of this legion garrisoned town.

With a dull gaze as he watched the thief's body fall to the ground, several arrows sticking from his body he couldn't help a thought that crossed his mind, so easy to add a death to a list almost as easy as adding a couple of items really quick to a writ of sale for some merchandise. Shoulders lowering, there wasn't much he could do as he allowed his gaze to drift a bit before his own turn came, strange he thought of how many people were coming to witness the execution, it was a small crowd of course but still it was probably one of the few entertaining scenes to come about for this town. It was with some irony that it would also be easily forgotten as well when everything came down to, such was the way of people Mickaelos wagered as he stepped forward to submit his name.

Of course that traitorous feeling of hope flared when Mickaelos heard the man taking names question the captain, it was of course a first for him but for the first time he saw a honest Imperial soldier actually questioning orders instead of blindly following them. Yet, it was a short lived hope as the captain reaffirmed his early beliefs in lists, they really don't matter, and the bitch actually seemed to be enjoying this scene as there was that smug superiority about her. Before being directed towards where the rest of the prisoners were lining up, Mickaelos for a moment caught a look of the soldier who tried to help him if only a little. For the life of him Mickaelos couldn't really hate the guy, he had such a contrite look on his face that instead of the glare he was going to give him instead he just winked and shrugged his shoulders, what can you do but thanks for the thought.

Strange as his moment was coming closer and closer, Mickaelos couldn't help but feel a sense of detachement, he knew that he should be in a panic, mentally clawing at his mind looking for some way out of this and yet there was only that feeling of resignation. Instead he just felt like that this was the end, it was so little, almost pathetic really of how little the ending of his life mattered. Shaking his head, instead he look at the people standing around him, General Tulius speaking to Uflric, strange the more I think about it they both have pretty big egos seeing as Uflric was staring daggers at the shorter Tulius, and the General making it out that he was going to reunite and strengthen the Empire as a whole with his actions. Closing his eyes, briefly he heard a strange animal roar the confusion among the people before the proceeds started up again, instead Mickaelos was thinking of how he saw those two men. Neither seemed much of a symbol for their two sides, with how Tulius was acting he spoke well and all but as a symbol well Mickaelos didn't know but he didn't look like one standing there and berating a person with his grand talk. Uflric for that matter, from what he remembered of hearing the stories revolving around him he seemed like your average double dealing politician using passionate speeches to give his questionable actions some merit, great at getting a group of people to follow him blindly really but again no real symbol.

Opening his eyes, for a moment he wondered what a true symbol would look like, Martin Septim sounded like one with his actions and the Hero of Kvatch and Neverine from what he could gather they were symbols as well but what did they really look like. Were they like these two men, it was kinda of a depressing thought-its probably why Mickaelos preferred being a middle man so much easier to deal with the world. I am going to die because of the egos of these two men, so much for being symbols to be led by and personally I dislike them both greatly, Mickaelos thought bitterly as he watched one of the rebels walk up to face his death. Despite himself he couldn't feel a bit of pride at the man, so what if he was a Stormcloak at least he was a symbol of utter defiance to the end, his thoughts were copied by the gathered Stormcloaks that with the man's passing their grim looks became fierce, defiant in a way they weren't before. Now that is a true symbol, Mickaelos thought dimly.

"The renegade from Cyrodiil!", laughing bitterly, him a renegade that was actually pretty funny as he found himself led up to the chopping block. As he was turned to face the block, Mickaelos could see the man's head who had died before him, a smile frozen forever on the man's face, though the light of defiance had been snuffed out. Mentally complimenting the man. " You would have made a far better symbol then your own leader, considering the cries of defiance from your comrades." Feeling his knees pushed out from underneath, forcing him to kneel or risk braining himself upon the blood slicked wood of the block, it was with a feeling of disgust as his skin touched the still warm blood on the block as he gazed up at the headsman. I probably should have faced the other direction, now I will have to watch as the damnable axe descends, though I could always close my eyes but that is far more frightening not knowing when death descends, he idly thought as the sun's light gleamed off the red stained metal of the axe blinding him for a moment.

As his sight cleared, Mickaelos found himself gazing at something that was far scarier than the headsman armed with an ax and for a moment his mind was blank so he didn't realize that he spoke out loud, "Wait...isn't that a..."

"DRAGON!", the paniked scream of a stormcloak soldier broke him out of his daze, and mentally realizing his statement had been completed as the monster reared its head back before shouting out several strange sounding words that tugged at Mickaelo's subconscious, of course that feeling faded to the back of his mind when the world proceeded to go crazy.

As he laid upon the ground for a few seconds, the yells and screams of people surrounding him as the sky turned a fiery red as fireballs appeared out of the sky to come screaming down into the city. The ground beneath him shuddering with the impacts, "Hey you, the gods won't give us another chance!", a familiar voice breaking through his stupor, the words enough to get his mind back onto track as he struggled to get to his feet. Feeling a weight pressing against him, he used that to lever himself to his knees as his eyes fell upon the still body of the headsman, dimly wondering when he died as he got to his feet. Twisting around, as a fireball impacted the ground several yards away from him, stones pelting his skin their heated causing several red welts to appear on his bare arms as a body flew past him burnt beyond recognition. A movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to snap his head towards it to see Ralof signaling him in a crouch position, how did he get his arms lose, Mickaelos thought randomly before looking beyond the man to see Uflric standing in a door way to a tower.

When some see their chance very few will let it get away from them, with a nod towards Ralof who got up to join him as the two men raced towards the door way. Of course the thoughts of each men were on survival, but in the back of Mickaelos mind the doorway also meant something more it wouldn't be until much later in his journey he realized what it was, a symbol and a choice.

======Break=======

Transition to next scene, considering we already know what comes after

======End of Break======

"What is it now Mother? I saw a dragon flying over the mountain.", for the moment Mickaelos stared at the scene of the young man berating his mother about her flights of fancy before twisting his head towards Hadvar talking with his uncle. Not a bad looking smithy, though it is missing a smelter so he probably has to import his refined metals from traders, he thought randomly and though considering what he went through it was a trivial at most it was a thought he could have after what he went through-there was a moment when he didn't think he would think of something ever more. Both Hadvar and himself were soot covered, in his case he was also drenched in blood on one side of his body when he slid on a puddle of blood after the torturer's assistant lost an arm and bled to death. Of course when he slid on the blood the stormcloak that had tried to cut him in half at the waist instead sinking her blade deep into the stone of a cave wall, which allowed him to plunge his found iron sword deep into her gut till the tip burst from the other side. From Hadvar's view fighting off two more stormcloaks it looked like he dodged the strike and avenged the fallen man, for Mickaelos he simply caught himself in such a way that allowed him to take advantage of her shock. It was also a shock to him when he realized after standing up to pull her writhing body from his blade, the warmth of her blood spilling over his bare hand that her blade had stuck into a projecting stone.

He found that he didn't really want to dwell on the events that transpired when he separated from Ralof and joined up with the guard who later introduced himself as Hadvar. Though he had killed people-of course unlike this time those times was survival between two people-it just felt wrong the deaths from the dragon attack. Somewhere along the way to this particular town and his uncle that Hadvar had mentioned, Mickaelos found that he greatly disliked killing those people simply because of something as stupid as politics when there was something endangering them all at the same time. It once again made him think that when people choose to become symbols for others they had to make sure the reasons were good, and Mickaelos couldn't help but laugh at that last thought, he thinking about what a person becoming a symbol for others should believe.

"I am glad to help in anyway I can. But I need your help, Riverwood needs your help.", Alvor pleaded, and his normally strong voice and Mickaelos was actually surprised had a bit of desperation.

For a moment Mickaelos remained silent, ironically he was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he barely heard a word of the conversation or the fact that he also followed the two into a house and was currently sitting at a table laden with food-of course that has always been an issue, he really didn't converse a lot with others-so for a moment he simply gaze at Alvor, the man waiting patiently for an answer while Hadvar watched the proceedings, why did the man had such a look on his face as if expecting something more. And what the Oblivion did they asked him to do?

"Ummm...sure, I mean its not like its really out of my way, and yeah...yeah its the right thing to do and all...", for a moment he could just picture his mother scolding him for answering a question before knowing what the hell he was being asked, Mickaelos you insufferable fool, I just asked you to stab the Emperor of the Empire with a fork. And Divines help you, said yes without blinking your eyes, proving once again that you don't pay attention to the concerns of others. Mark my words that is going to get you into trouble one these days. Inwardly winching as after that scolding his mother gave his head an awful whack with her rolling pin that brought stars to his eyes, and he thought with memories of his mother would be more well warmer, but any time he thought of them it was just to remember all the lessons she tried to drill into him. Belatedly he realized she might of had a point as with his answer something seemed to break in the room and the two Nords were smiling. Hadvar was possibly beaming, as if something was finally proven to him with Mickaelos's words, and that was what brought a very sickening feeling to Mickaelos stomach.

Reaching over the table Alvor clasped a hand upon Mickaelos shoulder, the only hint at the surprise he felt at the strength he felt in that grip evaporated any notion of gaining saying his answer, "Good answer, a worth answer any true Nord would make, eh we can forgive you being an Imperial. You were right Hadvar this man definitely has a mettle about him, he didn't even blink his eyes once when answering. Though...", for a moment Alvor frowned a bit, "...his answer wasn't what I was expecting. But by the Divines I can't deny the resolve I saw in his eyes when he answered, that is true mettle."

A grin plastering his face, Hadvar nodded his head, "I told you uncle, this man may speak strangely but I have never seen such a look on a man's face. I swear by the Eight that when we fought a couple of Stormcloaks, he did not waver at all even after he told me how he didn't really have much experience in combat. But seeing that look of resolve as he fought, not a speck of fear on him."

Are you daft, that isn't resolve, just common sense that any person playing a middleman learns. Never, ever reveal what you are feeling, you can gibber like an idiot but when a person hears your words and then sees a stone like mask then it makes them hesitate. Of course Mickaelos kept his expression carefully neutral, one he still had no idea what he just agreed to and secondly well for some reason the praise made him feel interesting to say the least.

Clearing his throat, namely though he enjoyed the feeling it was getting to much, and secondly after the events of today Mickaelos was dead tired, "I don't know about you Hadvar but I think some rest would do all of us some good. Besides before I head out to my destination I would clearly like a better description since its one thing to be told what to do but something entirely different actually getting there.", smiling faintly as Hadvar's and Alvor's faces dropped into something not quite sadness, but realization that they forgot something quite important when asking something of someone. Mickaelos thought personally he played that well since he would get them to repeat their request without rising suspicion that he didn't pay attention-of course he realized it was a huge risk since they might of given him what he asked before hand.

Hadvar was the first to respond, which wasn't surprising since he seemed to have become a champion of sorts for the friend he had made in a dire situation, "I am sorry my friend, with everything that happen I forgot that you are still a new comer to our lovely land."

Nodding with understanding, well that was how it appeared Mickaelos thought, "Its alright, yes definitely alright we went through a harrowing situation. So its understandable that something like that might have slipped your mind, even I forgot that Skyrim is completely unknown to me as well." With an almost unconscious embarrassed grin before adding, "With being in such a peaceful moment I agreed to my task without knowing actually where I had to go."

Grinning himself, Hadvar shook his head, though Alvor decided to answer instead, "Sorry, where is our Nord hospitility, forgetting to tell a vistor to our land...", for a moment Alvor fell silent, a cloud darkening his smile, "I just wished you had come at a better time."

Chuckling before reaching over, also getting up from the table in the same motion, Mickaelos patted the blacksmith's shoulder, "If we always waited for the better times, well we wouldn't have adventures.", straightening up, yet as he twisted his head he caught sight of a woman, crap another complication was she there the entire time, though he kept his smile not letting his inner thoughts slip out, "But I would like some sleep, and Hadvar can make it up for the slight by at least showing me around your lovely village. I for one would like to gather a few more supplies and to sell some of my excess."

Though for a moment Mickaelos thought he might have made a mistake when Hadvar's face clouded, yet as soon as it clouded he lifted his hand in a wave, "Yes, yes before I head back to Solitude myself I can take you to Lucan's shop, and knowing you have no septims.", turning his head towards Alvor, "Uncle would it be alright if I promised Lucan one commission of his choice in barter?"

"I don't see the harm in that, but mind not allowing him to ask for something expensive. Getting materials has become harder because of the war, make sure he understands that but yes you can offer something reasonable in trade for a few supplies.", with that Alvor got up, smiling as a little girl bumped into him, "You two can sleep downstairs, myself got to get back to working my forge before the last light. How bout you munchin want to assist me in forging a saw blade for Gerdur and Hod's lumber mill."

"Oh yes papa, you can't do anything without your reliable assistant.", as the child squealed when Alvor picked her up, nuzzling her nose against hers before opening the door and vanishing outside, for the first time since his inner thoughts touched his face as a soft smile, if a bit sad graced his lips.

"You had a child?", a soft if strong femine voice broke the silence of the room after Alvor's departure.

"No, a little sister. But that was a long time ago.", startling himself when he realized the voice that spoke was his, gone was the staged cheerfulness in its place was a voice tinged with sorrow but not a raw sorrow but someone who had accepted something a long time ago. Shaking his head, before turning to glance at the woman who had remained quiet. It didn't take much time to figure out she must be Alvor's wife and the mother of the little girl he saw.

Still smiling that sad smile, before lowering his head, "I think I am going head to sleep, thanks for the food but I think I will eat later if you don't mind.", noticing that Hadvar had left with a bowl of stew, of course he wouldn't have let his guard down if he was aware he was still there. As he made his way to the stairs, the woman moving to the side to let him pass.

As he reached the first step, the woman's voice halted his foot, "I don't trust you, or your words mister. Watching you something about you makes me suspect you, and that makes me worry about my family. Especially Hadvar he sees you as some type of hero, even my daughter listened to that story Hadvar told of your escape from the dragon and the battle through the tunnels." For moment the woman fell silent, before saying softly, "If you hurt my family I will make you pay."

Grinning faintly before shaking his head, Mickaelos made his way down the stairs. Yet as the woman was about to start picking up the dishes, she could just hear a faint sad voice from behind her, "You are far braver than me...I ran.."

Listening to the sleeping family around him, Mickaelos had found himself the sole person awake as he gazed up at the wooden rafters of the floor above his head. Though the floor was hard the woman who later he found out was named Sigrid had laid plenty of furs so it wasn't so uncomfortable. Till then and now they kept from looking at each other, Mickaelos supposed it was okay since it seemed she didn't tell the rest of his break out of character, no what got him was the look of pity he caught on her face when she didn't see him looking.

Lifting a hand from beneath his head to stare at it, more like studying the hand. He remembered the look of Alvor's and Hadvar's hands, calloused with what they did, but they appeared to be strong hands that could hold onto people. Even Sigrid though hers was softer looking still had the rough skin of a person who worked hard, seemed like it to would hold tight onto the people important to her. Sighing softly he clenched his hand into a fist before releasing the fist, yes it was strong and it showed that it had wielded a sword for awhile, he was no means a great swordsman but he was decent, though some who had a passion would think he was also a dirty fighter but he tended to use what ever was at a hand. Staring up at his hand for a few moments longer before letting it drop to his side, as his eyes traced the flickering flame of the lantern they had left burning-probably won't stay lighted for long Mickaelos mused as the flame grew smaller again.

Closing his eyes, Mickaelos mind once more brought him to that scene in the past that always repeated itself again and again no matter how far he ran. His hand far younger than it was now, unmarred by the sword or the years that followed holding onto a smaller hand wasted by a disease. No matter how much he wanted to he couldn't hold onto that person, each second they slipped further away from him before eventually he stopped feeling the light pulse, the slow loss of warmth. He ran that day, from his home, his family and friends even the woman that loved him. How he could face them, or their praise any more when he couldn't save the one person most important to him in the world, that slipped through his weak grip inch by inch before she was gone.

Sighing as he opened his eyes again, the light now dimmer as the shadows started to surround the small patch of light. Softly, almost unheard, "Sorry Adrial your older brother, couldn't be that symbol...he's just a coward now so no one will know how afraid he is now of losing someone important again, its so better this way.", as the light finally guttered out Mickaelos eyes closed before he settled into a dreamless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Author's Note:: Well lets continue on and so on, no idea if I am proceeding but eh you can't hold yourself back till what you are working on is finished. Anyhow I am taking some liberties with a few elements in Skyrim, but I think the end result will be pleasurable. Well mostly for me since I wish to build up to a few scenes that I must admit is making me rush through the earlier chapters simply to reach them. So the quality might be shaky at best for those who are reading. So hopefully people are getting a feel for Mickaelos's character, trying to reach pretty far in making how I played the game and the choices I made of course with some creative changes.

=====Break=====

There was something to say about cold rabbit stew for breakfast, it is definitely an acquired taste, Mickaelos thought as he swallowed the last spoonful of congealed stew. Honestly these Nords truly do not waste a thing, and must they use so much salt, grimacing before reaching over to grab the glass of milk that he hoped would clear his palate-it didn't. So to let his stomach wrestle over what must be an interesting combination of stew and acid, he decided to watch the rest of the small family go about their morning business. Hadvar having already left earlier, though being thoughtful enough to tell him how to reach Whiterun and to find the Jarl he had to deliver the message look for the palace on the highest point in the city.

Of course, Mickaelos idly thought while twirling the spoon he had used, it didn't really help since he still had no clue as what message he was suppose to deliver.

"Mama, can I go out and play with Stump and Frodnar? I have finished my morning errands.", the young girl Dorthe piped up after putting the broom she was using against the wall, a smile curling his lips remembering that his breakfast companion was the young girl who had introduced herself and probably the entire village in one long sentence.

"Yes dear, but first ask your father if he needs any help at the forge. Your cousin Hadvar had already told your father what Lucan wanted smithed for him.", though she still eyed him with mistrust, Mickaelos couldn't help but also notice that same sympathy still lurked in her eyes, as she started plucking a chicken for later.

Would of rather had chicken, maybe some eggs instead of that congealed mess, though the thought was less than cordial Mickaelos had long ago that as long as he kept it in then no one would take offense. Instead he let the spoon he was twirling drop to the table before reaching down to touch the sack of septims Hadvar had handed him, a frown forming on his lips again when the overly large tunic's sleeve he was wearing slid down. Probably should either find a tailor or a shop that has something that would fit an Imperial's smaller frame, with a sigh he decided to forgo counting the septims he was given as part of what Hadvar had gotten from the items Mickaelos had taken from the burning fort.

From what Hadvar had mentioned the commision his uncle was doing had more than enough set up Mickaelos for his trip to Whiterun, actually as he thought about it more there was more enough for him to probably set himself up slightly in this province.

"You "are" an odd one, you really don't willingly share your thoughts.", pursing her lips slightly, Sigrid took the chair nearer to the door as she studied Mickaelos. "Its hard to trust a person like that, but something about you also makes me believe that you will actually follow through with the task my husband set you." Eyeing him for a few seconds longer, Sigrid shook her head, the braid she tied her hair into bouncing along her shoulder before settling, "I will apologize for my words last night. Before a man's actions would be enough to prove himself, but we don't live in those times anymore and my fear got the better of me."

Before Sigrid could finish, he raised a hand to stall her next words, for some reason her words well they didn't mesh well-not towards him at least, "No need, personally I am an untrustworthy individual. But thats because I don't want anyone's trust, its too much of a burden.", with a faint smile and a shrug of his shoulders, Mickealos levered himself from the table.

"But...", her voice rising in argument the normally pale cheeks coloring with red, yet Mickaelos moved over to her side before placing a hand upon her shoulder, to stall her words.

Gripping her shoulder, before letting go Mickaelos moved over to the door his foot steps marking each of his words, "Now just think of me as just a random person, no importance, true I spent some time with your family but really what type of signifance is that honestly I see none. Hell me helping Hadvar well thats like some random person that found it was better to work together than seperately. Understand. After I exit that door I become a nobody for you and your family, like I was before and as I will become for ever more."

Hearing no response from Sigrid, he reached for the door knob yet as his fingers graced the wooden knob he heard the soft sound of someone clearing their throat.

"It must get awfully lonely being a nobody, but I wonder do you also see everyone you meet as a nobody? Do you remember the people you meet?", for a moment Mickaelos remained at the door, the sound of her question, more like an accusation echoing in his head.

With a small laugh, that sounded more like a sigh of regret, "No, your family is worth remembering. But I would prefer to be a nobody just the same to your family.", with that said Mickaelos opened the door and was gone from the small house.

For awhile Sigrid sat in her chair for several moments as she reached up absently to touch the wetness upon her cheeks. Wondering what sorrow could create such a person as that man who just left, with a sigh she got up from the chair she sat down upon she would think about it later but for now she had to get that chicken ready, not much to prepare some vegetables for tonights dinner.

Leaving the cool shadows of the wooden porch, the sounds of a bellows blowing and the hiss of hot metal kissing cold water Mickaelos stepped down to the rough cobbled street that was the main road for the small hamlet that was Riverwood. For a moment his face was dark as he thought about why he let so much out before shaking his head, what was done was done there was no use thinking back upon it since it could not be changed. With a shake to clear his mind he reached down to touch the pommel of the iron sword he had taken from a chest from the keep in Helgen. Unlike the armor which barely fit him, the sword was more useful and despite being made of iron was well made. One couldn't help but thank the smithies that produced these swords he thought ruefully before walking the short distance to the shop that Dorthe had told him was pretty much infront of their house.

Yet, as he was about to open the door he couldn't help hear muffled voices coming from beyond, strange an arguement, shaking his head. It has nothing to do with him at least.

Opening the door widely to let the morning sun in and the noise of the village from the barking of a dog and laughter of children to the distant sound of wood being chopped. "Well hello there, anyhow I am told that you have a package for me and Hadvar informed me to speak with Lucan.", grinning widely, his eyes taking in the scene of a younger woman moving away from the counter, a dark look upon her lovely face. Standing behind the counter was a man who looked simliar to the woman, so they were siblings Mickaelos concluded busying himself with wiping down the counter.

This is what he hated most, no matter how much you try to break that atomsphere it just doesn't seem to evaporate that sense of feeling he got when two people were arguing. So he just pushed right to the counter an easy smile on his face, as he watched the woman sit down in a chair infront of a small table while the man gave up wiping down the counter.

"Welcome to the Riverwood trader!", with a weak smile that belied the excited shout the man utterd, Mickaelos took a start when hearing the accent.

Leaning against the counter, "That accent I take it you two are from Cyndrolil and if I am not mistaken the central part."

"Yes, yes we are and from yours you are as well.", for the first time the man smile matched the feelings of his voice, "Camilla this man..."

Turning his head hearing a snort from the woman, "I already figured that out seeing as you can talk to him eye to eye", for a moment there was an uncomfortable silence, before the woman sighed as she wearily smiled, "Sorry, its just been a stressful few mornings ever since the break in and theft. Though if someone wouldn't be so thick headed..."

"Camilla, I said its enough and I refuse to let you go up there!", the man retorted, and Mickaelos had to grin when he finally remembered Dorthe telling him the shop owner was named Lucan. With a shrug of his shoulders Lucan gave Mickaelos a sheepish smile, "Sorry, just a little argument, I keep telling my sister she is far more valuable than a claw. Though..." With a shake of his head, "Anyhow as requested I have a package of several potions, hmmm...health, stamina, cure disease and magicka. Two each if I recall. One spare set of clothing, thankfully I think we are close to the same size so they should fit, a pair of leather boots. Plus enough road rations to last a week, though for the life of me I don't think it would take more than a few hours to get Whiterun but well orders are orders.", with a slight grunt Lucan pulled a knapsack up from behind the counter before placing it ontop.

"Oh and a knapsack to carry it all in, though would you care to browse some of our goods seeing as you only have that iron sword.", Mickaelos couldn't help but admire the man's nature as a merchant.

Shaking his head slightly, "Oh that will be alright, I believe this will be enough. By the way what did you commission Alvor to make, that is a lot of items?", grinning good naturedly as he reached over to grab a strap of the knapsack before slinging it onto his back.

Though it was the sister that answered, "I convinced my brother to have a fine steel sword made so we won't have to worry about another break in...since he refuses to use merchandise. Which reminds me, when it comes in I am going to go up that mountain to get that damnable claw back, and you can't stop me.", with that the sister got up before heading up the stairs. For a moment Mickaelos was frozen as the scene reminded him so much of a particular moment in his past.

"I said NOOO! You are not going near that sword even if I have to sell it back to Alvor. You aren't going up that mountain and that is final!", yet as his words faded, Lucan with shoulders slumped leaned against the counter. The sound of his heavy sigh drawing Mickaelos from his funk to turn to look towards the man.

Wringing his hands, eyes gazing at the wood of the counter, "I am going to lose her too, I know it. She is so stubborn, what can I do its not like I can tied her down. That damn claw, why did I moan so much about it being taken, she just wants to help me knowing...knowing what it means to me."

He has totally forgotten I am here, Mickaelos thought as he watched the man sink deeper into his own worry for his little sister. The forced cheerfulness fading away as Lucan stared at his hands, they were definitely not a fighter's hands, a merchant's touch nothing more and yet he wants to hold on tight to the person that matters most to him over an object. Sighing, Mickaelos backed away from the counter before turning around to leave the store.

As he stood upon the store's porch his eyes traveled up towards the distant ruins ontop of the mountain, the memory of him and Hadvar standing upon a ridge as they gaze up at those same ruins. Bleak Falls Barrows, Mickaelos thought.

Grinning to himself, well this is pretty much right up my ally isn't it, I am a middleman between two parties. Of course it was between a brother and sister but that had never stopped him before from fulfilling his duty as a middleman, why would it now. Though as his eyes studied the ruins, it would mean getting into a lot of danger but what else was new. Dimly he remember the task he was set to do by Alvor but he wagered he could do it later since a life was now in danger, and at least doing this means he was actually getting into trouble by his choice rather than waking up and finding himself in trouble. Oh, yes this was a much better way of getting into trouble.

Besides, they were just bandits and hell he might actually get this done without a single second of combat, but first Mickaelos had to ask someone what was the best way to reach those ruins-wouldn't do to set out and promptly get lost.

Taking his gaze from the distant ruins, for a moment he lingered on Alvor working at his forge but decided that wouldn't do and he couldn't very well ask Dorthe so he turned his gaze to the left. For a moment his gaze fell on the Nord was berating his mother yesterday who he had learned from Dorthe was named Sven, but he decided that wouldn't do for one thing if Dorthe wasn't spouting simply childish rumors asking him might cause complications. Hmmm...I could probably head to the inn, that choice though sent a shiver through him, the female inn keeper kinda of sent the feeling like a blade was being pressed against the back of his neck every time he caught her staring at him.

So it was with some surprise when he heard a male voice, though it had a higher tenor it was definitely masculine, "Are you planning on heading up to Bleak Falls Barrows by chance.", twisting his head to the side, he found himself looking at a Bosmer dressed in simple clothing with a quiver and bow strapped to his back.

For a moment his mind raced through what Dorthe had told him till a name popped up, blessing little Dorthe for saving him so much time on introductions he could really get to the point faster. "Perhaps, Faendal right. Dorthe told me that you worked at the lumber mill but also you would drop off meat for her family if you happened to bring down a deer. I was wondering if you could tell me what is the best way to get to those ruins?"

For a moment a look of surprise crossed the face of the mer's face before a soft smile curved his lips, "Dorthe is a cute one for being a Nord kid, and yes I can tell you how to get up there but I would do you a favor further and show you. But I have a demand.", at the mention of the demand, Mickaelso grin lowered into a frown as he eyed the mer wondering what he would demand.

"Go on, I am listening, though if I don't like it I will try someone else to tell me how to get up there.", despite the words he managed to keep the tone cheerful as he turned to face Faendal fully.

For a moment the mer looked towards the shop, "I know Camilla wants to go up there herself. Its a death sentence, reading all those books and listening to my tales she thinks its easy to...", turning his head back towards Mickaelos, "Sitting with her she has not made it a secret that she is going to try to get that claw back. She knows it means a lot to Lucan, that when he found it thats when he thought it was safe, that it was a sign for her to come join him in Skyrim.", with a heavy sigh, the mer's shoulders drooped before lifting his gaze to also stare up at the ruins in the distance.

"I wanted to do this myself, but...I am not strong enough. It would mean my death and Camilla's too if I did it on my own, and though I thought of asking Sven I know him well enough that he would sneak away to gain the glory himself. Though I hate him, I don't want him dead.", turning his gaze back towards Mickaelos, and he could see the mer was building up to ask for his favor.

"So I want to accompany you, I heard the tale Hadvar spoke of how you fought together. There is no need for you to tell Camilla I went with you, Dorthe would have made my feelings for Camilla no secret but I would give anything even this chance to make sure she was safe. Plus despite being poor with a sword I am quite good with a bow, Bosmer blood and all", thoughout his speech he was down cast at the end, Mickaelos could sense the pride the mer had in his shooting.

Unable to help himself, he reached out to clasp his hand upon the mer's shoulder, startling the poor man out of his mood, "Well I can't really say no, besides its not like we are going into anything too dangerous, hell considering Helgen this shouldn't be to hard. Unlike the Nords as an Imperial I know the value of having an archer watch your back, so if you are ready to go know lets head out and be back before.", grinning as he saw the mer's face brighten, his eyes glowing with deterimination.

With a bow of his head, "Thank you, thank you sir. I wil lead the way but I will let you take over when we get to the ruins. I-I can't thank you enough for giving me this chance to help.", straightening, and Mickaelos couldn't help notice the man was walking straighter, it was nice to have a purpose.

Though his smile remained upon his lips, his eyes holding that brightness Mickaelos though followed with a grim resolve. Ideally he would have left the mer behind, but he had the feeling the mer would have followed, and that would be bad for both of them since despite his boast they were going into danger. So instead he bolstered the mer's confidence, lightened his mood and got him to view him as the leader of the adventure and hopefully he wouldn't get them both killed. As he walked behind the mer, his gaze taking in the small village, it was nice and if he had time he might return to get to know it a bit more-it was like his home town-his mind once again struck by how he felt like he was home but like before he would put that back for later, he had to focus on the task at hand.

"So, I confess you know my name but I don't know your name.", twisting his head a bit, Faendal glanced back at the Imperial by the looks of him, almost like Lucan he thought idly.

With a grin, his eyes lightening up, "Well...names Mickaelos but I tend to go by Mick more often than not. Oh and I don't tend to sur names because I like being on first name basis with everyone I meet.", leaning his head back to laugh before shaking his head.

"Mickaelos...hmmm...sounds interesting, doesn't sound Imperial almost with an elvish sound to it.", facing forward again, "So Mick, as you can surmise I am a hunter. What did you do before you got to lovely Skyrim."

Taking a few steps to walk besides Faendal, "Well I was a middleman."

"Middleman?", the voice confused, before adding, "Isn't that a criminal activity?"

"Oh, no no it means many things, like what we are doing right now.", with a laugh he patted the mer upon his back, mindful of the bow and quiver, "A person that works between two parties."

"Oh...it sounds confusing.", though his only answer was a bark of laughter as the two turned to walk over the bridge.

========================================Break=====================================

Though Mickaelos was hesitant in bringing along the mer, he was soon glad that he did considering how quickly the realization that this small adventure was definitely going to turn into a pretty dangerous affair. For the most part the trip up the mountain wasn't too bad, a single wolf that Faendal took down quite quickly when it was about to pounce Mickaelos. Of course that was where things went down hill when they got ambushed near an old guard tower, which forced Mickaelos to reveal a little trick that he would have preferred not to use as he summoned his familiar to tackle a bandit archer while Faendal sent arrows at another holding a shield while he dealt with a warhammer wielding one.

It had to be an orc, couldn't have been something like a Breton, but no an orc and from the way he is working himself up is building up into a berserk rage. Mickaelos thought dismally to himself as he jumped backward from another horizontal swing, for the first time thinking how small an iron sword was against a steel warhammer as the orc spun in place from his swing. At least he is only wearing hide armor, is that even armor and with snow as well I can literally see his skin, shivering in compassion for the orc.

For the moment seeing his foe unbalanced Mickaelos decided to take a chance to see how the rest were doing, a smile forming on his lips as he just caught his familiar and the archer vanishing off a ledge. The female bosmer screaming in horror as the familiar dragged her to her death, probably shouldn't have kept onto your bow little elf, its like playing a game of tug of war with a dog. Especially on ice cover rocks to boot, he thought as he twisted his gaze enough to see Faendal keeping the other bandit corner in the little tower's door way, though the shield blocked a couple of arrows Mickaelos could see several jutting from the bandit's legs and one in her shoulder.

Seeing that for now there was no danger from another angle, Mickaelos turned back to face his own foe. Why did I have to get the orc, you literally have to kill them twice almost...though. As the orc regained his balance, Mickaelos couldn't help but notice the bandit was wearing hide shoes which unlike boots didn't really give someone a good grip on slick terrain. Hmmm...that is interesting.

Grinning, "Hey Faendal, have you ever watched Dorthe and Frodnar have a snow ball fight?", keeping an eye on the orc, who was still building up to his berserk rage as he held his warhammer across his chest in a guard position.

For a moment there was only spluttering from Faendal, "What, have you gone crazy! Yes, I have but why does that make any sense here.", shaking his head, Faendal kept his eyes trained on the bandit still hovering in the door way, her shield raised while keeping most of her body covered by the door way. Just move just a bit more you wench, or wait longer till you collapse from the blood loss its your choice.

Still holding his iron sword in one hand, Mickaelos was tossing a nicely formed snow ball in his other hand, "Well the rule with snow ball fights is to aim for the other's head.", chuckling faintly before pulling back the arm with the snow ball before snapping it forward letting the snow ball fly straight into the orc's blood red eyes.

A moment passed as the orc blinked his eyes before rearing his head back, "ARgh...I am going to crush your skeever head out through your arsehole.", with a scream of feral rage which caused Faendal to widen his eyes as he watched the orc charge Mickaelos, his war hammer lifted high over his head to smash it down upon the smirking Imperial's head his iron sword held lazily in one hand. Maybe the Divines be with you crazy bastard, Faendal thought as he twisted his aim towards the orc, only to let the string go slack seeing what happened next.

With a faint smile, Mickaelos watched the orc charge the steel war hammer's head lifted high in the air, for a moment the rage in the orc's eyes flashed into shock as when he took one more step the foot that was placed on the ground slipped out from under him. The speed of his charge sending his placed foot flying out from underneath to send him crashing backwards, the air expelling out of him as the sound of the war hammer skidded across the ice slick rocks.

Staring up at the cloud filled sky, dazed from slamming the back his head hard against the rocks the orc watched as the figure of the Imperial walked up to stand over him. "It truly is maddening getting hit in the face by an ice cold snowball, for an orc its truly enraging. So not many people think quite right but only to get that person back right. Though I think it probably is better than a sword point.", with that Mickaelos sent the point of the sword through the orc's gasping mouth pushing till the sound of metal scraping against rock could be heard.

Faendal lowered his bow, the other bandit having ducked to the side of the doorway for now to stare at the man before him. He literally has no expression, even saying something like there is no expression on his face at all. For a brief moment he felt something primal stir in fear as he watched Mickaelos pull the sword from the corpses mouth, making sure to wipe the blade clean on the hide armor before turning to walk towards Faendal. Once more that easy smile was playing along his lips, his eyes flashing warmly.

"Well seeing as two are down lets see about flushing out that third now.", with a weak nod Faendal swallowed before shaking off that feeling, it was just an after effect of battle he reassure himself Mickaelos strode over to the stone bridge leading to the tower.

Lifting up his arm, once more Faendal watched the glowing mist surround the Imperial's hand like before when he summoned the familiar to attack the archer earlier, it barely took him no time before once more Faendal heard that howl as a wolf jumped out of nowhere to rush through the door way.

Mickaelos frowned a bit as he watched his familiar bark at the figure hiding from sight, but it wasn't attacking. Turning his head he motioned for Faendal to get an arrow ready, the mer nodding his head before drawing back back the arrow that was ready. During the time he was motioning to Faendal his familiar had ceased its barking to only growling as Mickaelos walked across the stone bridge, though he was wearing good leather boots he was careful with walking.

Gripping his sword tightly in his right hand, he slid his body against the stone doorway listening intently, and noting how unbearably cold stone got, he could hear just beneath the familiar's growling sounds of rapid breathing. Scraping of metal against stone and the soft cries coming from must out of sight. Closing his eyes briefly he caused the familiar to vanish before motioning with his free hand for Faendal to come over as he walked through the door way.

Stepping on something, his eyes falling to gaze at a dropped sword before gazing up to see a stair well as a sound drew his attention to the right where a small aclove was beside the stairs. A simple wooden table with a few items resting on top the most notice was a pouch of coins, a rather beat up looking wooden chaired knocked onto its back. Yet, what drew his attention the most was the figure in battered iron armor with their back resting against the stone wall. Their shield lying across their legs, several bloody arrows lying on the floor near them, the leather pants stained dark with blood. On the floor as well rested an old battered iron helmet casted off by its owner.

Dark brown eyes staring into wide, pain filled sky blue eyes as he felt Faendal's presence behind him, "That was a pretty good shot.", his voice low, and strangely there was grief in the tone towards the figure before him.

"I-I...didn't know, I mean I now it landed but..", the mer's voice falling silent as he too stared down at the figure trying to fight to gain breath, fear in her eyes.

Staring at them with so much fear and pain was a young nord girl, wheat colored hair falling to her shoulders, the tips stained red on as she held a hand to the arrow protruding just below her shoulder. Its fetching stained red as if the girl tried to remove the arrow before the pain and fear overwhelmed her, more than half of its length buried and it didn't take Mickaelos long to figure out that a portion of it as well as the arrow head was now within the girl's lungs.

So young to be dying in so much fear and pain, Mickaelos thought to himself as he gazed at the girl's face, she was pretty but it would probably have been a few more years till it fully matured despite the red tatoos that formed below her eyes to trace down her cheeks. Unfortunately she would not reach those years he thought grimly as he placed his sword down upon the stone floor.

"Is...is there anything we can do to help her?", the mer's voice sounding dismal, it was funny sometimes after a battle the feelings a person will have. Before he was trying so hard to kill her but now seeing her wounded and frightened, making sounds like a wounded animal. For a moment Mickaelos smiled faintly, it made the mer a good person deep down before his lips formed an emotionless slash.

Sighing, before shaking his head, "The potions in my pack are only minor, good for those wounds on her legs...but for this...and unfortunately I don't know any healing spells.", for a moment there was that look of hope on the young girl's face before it crumbled into pain, Mickaelos hated those looks it made him realize how powerless he was as he reached out with a glowing hand, for a moment the girl shied away from him but her wound had sapped her of what strength she had left as he placed his hand upon her forehead.

"I thought you didn't know any healing spells?", for a moment the mer also had that brief flash of hope in his voice.

"Unfortunately I don't, this is just a calm spell.", Mickaelso replied tiredly as his spell flowed into the girls body, for a moment the figure tensed before relaxing. The breathing became easier as the hand placed around the arrow fell to the ground, the eyes drooping as the fear fled as something like peace filled the blue eyes. The glow around his hand grew stronger, till Faendal had to shield his eyes, while Mickaelos concentrated his magicka into this simple spell.

With the strengthening of the spell, the body relaxed even more, the breathing slowing down as all tension left the body, becoming limp upon the ground as the girl's head was only kept straight by his hand.

Sighing, the glow fading from his hand Mickaelos hand closed the staring blue eyes before wearily getting back to his feet. Feeling the unspoken question from the mer before he asked it, voice tired, "Not many people know that the calm spell can kill, its a matter of perspective really if you add more magicaka and control it can calm a person's mind to the point that it relaxes and eventually stops the bodies functions to fight for life.", shaking his head as he turned to face Faendal, a sad smile upon his lips, "We better get going, time is of course of the essence and we have an adventure to finish.", once more his smile became cheerful again as he strode past Faendal whose eyes followed him.

"How...how can you do that, remain...I mean separate yourself so well?", Faendal called after the man as he started follow him, "How can you seperate your emotions so well?"

As he walked Mickaelos threw over his shoulder, "Its a talent really..."

Twisting his head back to stare at the tower with the body of the young woman, "Seems more like a curse.."

Over the sound of wind howling Faendal could just make out, "That too..."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Author's Note:: Well I think more less have fallen into the rhythm for this storline, actually still not quite satisfied but oh well going to aim towards seeing this storyline through to the end.

"Spiders, I really REALLY hate spiders. So many legs, and ugh...not to mention did you ever hear that they can lay eggs underneath your skin. So there you go walking along when pop hundreds of baby spiders burst out of a bump in your skin you thought was just a harmless bump.", the final image of a hundred spiders crawling over his body caused Mickaelos's body to shudder involuntary, "Ugh...I am going to examine my skin thoroughly after we leave here, definitely..."

For his part Faendal nodded, not entirely comfortable around the man infront of him as he continued on about his hatred of spiders. He goes from a cheery person, and yet, unable to forget how Mickaelos stood in front of the man trapped in the web, a smile curving his lips before casually sliding his sword through the man's chest. Not for the first time did he think of his words after they had slain the first group of bandits, the sorrow on the man's face when he eased the young woman into a peaceful death. The joking banter as he ran a sword through the orc's mouth or how easily he could send his familiar to its death-it sent a chill down his spine and yet Divine's helped him he couldn't really feel fear around him.

Divines help me, Faendal thought as he followed the man deeper into the ruins.

Growing tired of his hatred of all things spidery-was that even a word-Mickaelos turned his attention to the gold claw that was hanging from his belt. Perhaps I should have asked that dark elf's name before running him through, he thought idly, of course he did lead his group into these ruins and stole an item that didn't belong to him. Shaking his head, as his foot finally left the final stair, the shaking of his head causing him to notice a gleam out of the corner of his eye.

Grabbing his sheathed iron sword he managed to block the swung axe upon the flat of the blade, the force sending him backwards up the steps. Brown eyes taking in a rather dry figure wielding the axe, strange words whispering from its shriveled lips. Humm...smells rather well preserved, pulling his sword fully out of the sheath in time to parry the axe blade. With a twist of his wrist sending the blade sliding down the haft of the wooden shaft as the blade sheared the fingers that were gripping the weapon, in the same moment he moved forward pulling his free arm back as his left shoulder struck the shambling figure before him. Propeling his hand forward to smash palm open against the staggered figure sending it stumbling backwards in time to collide into another of the dried and decayed touch figures that had risen from an aclove. Oh my this one thought of bringing along a shield, that does complicate matters a little, Mickaelos thought as he twisted side ways to catched the black metal blade of a two handed sword upon the flat of his iron sword is free hand lying upon the flat to help absorb the impact, knees bending as another dead figure beared down with their ancient weapon.

"Hey Faendal..", Mickaelos spoke out of the corner of his mouth, as he took a quick side step while moving his iron sword to allow the bigger weapon to slide harmlessly along its side. With the weight of its weapon- from Mickaelos view point a lack of much muscle mass-the figured stumbled forwards following the weight of its blade as Mickaelos slammed his fist still holding his own sword into its back helping it along its way to a loud noisy heap as it crashed head long into an empty alcove. It was then the first figure's weapon finally fell heavily upon the stone flooring sending a harsh clang throughout the chamber, its severed fingers scattering in all directions.

Faendal watched with amazement as he watched the man before him block the sweep of the axe clutched by the draugr, yet as he scrambled to lift his bow he watched in growing amazement as Mickaelos in a return strike shaved off the fingers of the draugar's axe wielding hand. In that same action he watched the man send the undead creature stumbling backwards into another one who wield both a nordic ancient sword and iron shield. Drawing a bead on the one that Mickaelos pushed, he sent an arrow flying into its skull, its weight not becoming an even heavier burden for its fellow when the clash of metal upon metal caused him to twist his head back towards Mickaelos. Unable to register the man's movement till he watched the two handed sword wielding draugr sent sprawling into the stone burial niche, the huge blade skittering across the floor.

"The-They are draugr...undead Nords...", blinking as the weapon of the first draugr finally striking the ground, sending a shiver of awe through his frame. This man, taken by surprise dealt with...dealt with the situation in seconds. Up till now Mickaelos had used Faendal's skill in the bow to take down the bandits before, and by sending his familiar repeatedly against the giant spider before allowed him to pepper the spider with arrows till it finally died. The only things he had killed since entering this ruin was the three skeevers that had attacked them on the narrow stairwell, just before the spider, Faendal thought as he watched the man calmly walk up to the draugar that was just now getting up from crashing into the stone burial niche.

"Hmm...undead Nords, kinda of like zombies but...drier and less messy.", commenting offhandedly Mickaelos with a slight jerk of his arm sent the point of his sword through the back of the neck of the draugar, "But very...very dusty...ack", coughing lightly before lifting his sword to point at the recovering draugar, a purple light wrapping around the blade till once more that howl erupted as his familiar bounded out of the portal to tackle the draugr, sending it and the dead one back to the ground as the wolf familiar started tearing at any dead flesh it could grab.

Lowering his bow, eyes taking in the scene and once more Faendal couldn't quite figure out why he felt uncomfortable around this particular man, and yet he didn't fear him at the same time. It was maddening, not to mention the man's figure was hard to really define a simple head topped by black fuzz, a somewhat evil looking facial hair and that almost nocommital smile. He wasn't sure what emotion that smile meant. In all the man was remarkable that there was no real defining feature to him, it was almost as if when the man finally left Faendal might forget he was even was here. Except...somehow I think I will remember which is strange because somehow I get the feeling the man wanted people to forget him as soon as possible, Faendal mused.

Shaking his head Faendal decided that it was better not to dwell upon the enigma that the man was, "Yeah, not sure why they are as they are, you could probably hear a hundred thoughts and none of them would be true. So..", the high keen wail of the familiar caused both man and mer to focus towards the familiar.

Drawing its sword from the vanishing body of the wolf, glowing blue eyes focusing on the two intruders before mouthing again those strange words that Mickaelso found disconcertingly familiar before lifting its free hand. The glowing blue nimbus the only warning as a stream of freezing ice hurtled towards him. Twisting to the side, so the stream of cold slipped along his back, and through his clothes he felt the bitter numbing cold that nearly caused him to drop his sword. With a grunt of pain he slid behind the pillar blocking the new undead foe, bracing his cold scoured back against the stone Mickaelos leaned his head back as he watched the stream change direction as the draft of coldness surrounded the pillar he was taking shelter behind. For a wild moment regretting that he had left his bag near the bridge that led towards this ruin for safe keeping as he felt the effects of the cold sapping his stamina.

So...undead nord, focuses on highest threat...so yeah, not really brain dead, Mickaelos thought ruefully as the sound of a bow humming caught his attention, an undead grunt of rage as the arrow Faendal had released found its mark. Twisting his head in time to see another arrow fly till it vanished out of sight, and again a grunt of anger as the stream of frost came into view as the mer started leading the undead foe. Well thank you Faendal, good man..I mean mer..., he thought briefly before edging his body along the pillar, both hands now gripping the iron sword as he waited for what would soon come into view.

Backpedaling as fast as possible, Faendal let loose with a third arrow to attract the restless draugr towards him, though it flew over the draugr's head as Faendal scrambled faster upwards to avoid the approaching frozen stream that the draugr was channeling. Reaching back again to draw another arrow, so glad that he thought of looting them from the quivers of the several bandits they had killed earlier. Yet, just as he placed the arrow the stream of magicka eruptly ended as a bellow of rage filled the chamber.

Getting the arrow ready, Faendal slid down the steps, the ice now coating them making the steps slippery he watched as Mickaelos and the now one armed draugr traded a few blows. As the draugr lifted its weapon high for a strike down, Mickaelos traded hands with his sword as he reached up to catch the draugr's decending arm, halting its downstroke before thrusting his sword through the draugr's gaping mouth. In seconds the blue glow faded from the undead's eyes before the body slipped to the ground.

Staring as the man look down upon the corpse upon the floor, Faendal was startled to hear the man's voice, a strange almost non-commital tone to his voice, "I take it this is the standard fare..."

Blinking Faendal took a second as he walked to stand besides Mickaelos, "Yeah...but well there are supposely stronger ones as well..."

"Oh, well okay lets get going, you know time is of the essence though perhaps not for them, but by the Divines time is fleeting for us so lets head on out.", laughing cheerfully, before shrugging his shoulders Mickaelos strode a few feet before hearing a click.

"Before I forget, there are also traps to deal with as well.", unable to hid his smirk, Faendal watched as Mickaelos gave him a reproachable look as he peeled himself from the wall he flung himself against to avoid the wall of wooden spikes, stepping over the trap that he had saw instantly, "So watch your step."

Mumbling beneath his breath, Mickaelos made sure to give the trigger a wide berth before falling along side Faendal, "Well...thanks for the warning.", though despite the sacrasm Mickaelos couldn't help but chuckle, he kinda of like this mer-he had a sense of humor. Oh and note to self, watch where you step.

As the duo went deeper, facing off against both traps and the undead nords that true to their race were too stubborn to remain dead. Faendal couldn't help but like Mickaelos, strange and off putting in a fight but out of fights the man always seemed cheerful. And beyond wonders Faendal marveled that the man simply had no bias against other races, even his jokes about the undead nords and stubbornness lacked the usual biting inflections rather it was like almost as if the man were friends with all races. Yet, something earlier still bothered the mer and during a lull in the combat they had come upon a puzzle door with the shape of animals carved upon that Faendal decided to bring up that one nagging feeling as Mickaelos was studying the door.

Examining his bow, though he knew that it was still good to go-he even had an ancient nordic bow strapped to his back-Faendal mulled ways of asking. Shaking his head, hell Mickaelos was pretty easy going despite several near death experiences and he still seemed none the worse for wear so it was better just to ask. Lifting his gaze from his bow, "I was wondering, that girl from earlier...the bandit that was wounded. I mean, its well I was thinking about how you killed the orc and the leader. Hell, the rest of the bandits you told me to aim to kill without a second thought so why was she so different, and its not like they were all men you brutally killed that archer in the chamber after the entrance and she was just a bit older than the girl earlier. So what...", his voice trailing off Mickaelos straigthened up from examining three holes placed within a circle on the door.

Letting his hands fall to his sides, brown eyes gazing up at the form of a bear chiseled upon the door, Mickaelos for a few seconds was silent before shaking his head, his voice oddly neutral, "I hate seeing things suffer, especially when what is done has been done." Sighing gently before turning his head to eye Faendal from a corner of his eye, "Also I know suffering can change people as well, sometimes for the better but it all depends on the people who caused the suffering in the first place. Cruel actions tend to cause crueler reactions, or perhaps a bitter view and if that girl could have survived the trip back to Riverwood I would have dropped everything but that isn't how it turned out so I eased her pain."

For several moments the two were quiet, his eyes falling to look at his bow, "So you would have saved her if you could have? Why?"

Instead of answering Mickaelos instead walked up to the puzzle, his hand reaching up to start moving the symbols around as his other hand took the golden claw from his belt to stare at it as he fiddled with the door. Faendal watched patiently as Mickaelos nodded his head before inserting the claws into the three holes and twisting, of course he would have figured it out, as the symbols whirled around till they all showed the puapa as the door slid down to reveal a chamber beyond.

As the noised died down from the opening of the door, Mickaelos took a step forward, his sword now unsheathed and held steady in his right hand. "The events in our lives shape who we can become, and if there was a chance that event could have changed that girl for the better it could have also made her for the worse. I would do all in my power simply to give her that chance.", for a moment Mickaelos stopped as Faendal followed slowly behind him causing him too to stop, "For that girl I would have given that chance, the rest we killed simply because it was convenient and she was an exception to the rule." With that Mickaelos resumed his pace, and Faendal stood still mulling over what he said, that man has a strange way of thinking...but perhaps that's why he can do what he does. Shaking his head, Faendal pulled an arrow out of his quiver, readying it in his bow before following Mickaelos again.

Moving forward Mickaelos's eyes studied what the chamber held, it was almost like an amphitheater, a raised platform with a coffin upon it and a wall with carvings upon its surface. Of course there had to be bats, as Mickaelos ducked his head before walking across a small stone bridge over a running stream. With a glance upward, Mickaelos could see an opening that revealed the late afternoon sky, we have been in this ruin for quite awhile, he thought as his eyes fell back as he walked up the steps. "Hey Faendal, what were these ruins used for?" As he stepped onto the stone platform his eyes were glued to the carvings upon the wall immediately in front of him, so he barely paid attention to Faendal's answer.

"Not sure, I asked Sven way back when we use to be on more amiable terms. He told me that ages ago this ruin use to be a temple for some cult that worshiped dragons. Of course knowing he learned a lot of what he knew at the Bard's college I didn't really give it much credit till now. By the way there is chest over...Mickaelos...MICKAELOS!", Faendal's voice falling swiftly to worry then tinged with fear, as dimly Mickaelos heard the sounds of something beating against stone.

Stopping in front of the wall, one word seemed to pull his attention, a brilliant white light flooded his vision as a voice within his head started chanting one word over and over.

 **FUS FUS FUS FUS FUS FUS FUS FUS FUS FUS FUS FUS FUS**

Yet, when Mickaelos thought it would go endless, the feeling of something stirring his blood and memories, an almost unknowable feeling as if he was almost able to grasp something thought lost but found everything returned to normal. Shaking his head, for a moment he had no thoughts till the sound of crashing stone and the high twang of a bow caused him to turn around in time to see a draugr wearing more armor and a horned helm rise from out of the coffin.

"Mickaelos, its a DRAUGR OVERLORD!", just as Faendal shouted the draugr turned its attention to the mer, its head thrown back before the word that pounded within Mickaelos head was shouted from its decayed lips unleashed a force that snapped the bow Faendal was wielding in half before sending the off balanced mer stumbling from the platform. Wielding a glowing blue ancient sword the draugr turned its attention towards Mickaelos, his familiar once more bounding from the aether. Gripping his sword tightly, his other hand now glowing with licking flames, walking forward his sword held out in an angle Mickaelos let lose as the flames leaped from his outstretched hand into a stream of fire towards the undead monster who was using its sword to keep the familiar at bay.

As the flames seared towards it the Draugr twisted its head towards the approaching flames as it lifted its free hand a blue nimbus surrounding its undead hand before frost shot forth from its palm colliding with the flames. Gritting his teeth, his forehead wrinkling with concentration in focusing on keeping his flames going as it drew upon his reserve of magicka-the knowledge that he had used quite a bit with the summons and maintaining its connection to mundus showing.

Just as he felt his vast magicka pool nearing empty, Divines how much does this undead monster have in magicak, the sharp twang of a powerful bow as an arrow appeared suddenly from the draugr's shoulder. Its concentration broken the stream of frost ended just as Mickaelos' magical flames fizzled out instead focusing on maintaining his familiar. Who was busy worrying the draugar on one side, jumping to avoid the power that it used earlier on Faendal before dashing in to take tiny bits from its legs before jumping away to avoid the wild swings of the draugr's sword.

Faendal meanwhile sending arrow after arrow into the undead monster's body, yet unable to land a critical shot due to unfamiliarity with the much heavier ancient nordic bow.

Just a high keening wailed erupted as the draugr finally landed a hit upon the familiar, the enchanted sword severing its connection to mundus. It barely got the sword up in time to blow Mickaelo's thurst, the blade sliding along its black armored side causing sparks to fly as Mickaelos jumped away to avoid its counter stroke. Stepping forward swiftly to send an upward horizontal stroke, which was blocked by the sharp blade of the enchanted weapon which sliced through Mickaelos's iron sword as he side stepped to the right to avoid the rest of the stroke.

For a moment the draugr's decayed lips cracked into a smile, revealing blackened teeth as Mickaelos peered critically at the stump of his sword before dropping the now useless weapon. Mouthing an ancient language the draugr pulled its head back to unleash another shout as Mickaelos ducked. As the draugr was about to shout once more an arrow sprouted from its exposed throat, the shout turning into a dry gargle its head lowered to see Faendal kneeling as another arrow flew from the bow to sink deep between the two glowing eyes.

Blue eyes fading, the undead monster toppled backwards as the weapon fell from now truly lifeless fingers to clang upon the stone floor. Crouching Mickaelos threw over his shoulder towards Faendal, "Again, nice shot Faendal. I think I for one would like to leave this place now.", grinning before wiping his hands upon his pants Mickaelos got up as Faendal jumped from the ledge he took during the fight to landed behind Mickaelos.

"I fully agree with you, though this is the first time I have ever fought one of those draugr before.", Faendal's eyes studied the dead creature before turning his attention towards the chest, "I will examine whats in the chest.", seeing Mickaelos nod before stooping down to pick up the draugr's dropped weapon.

Hmmm...enchanted with a frost spell. Hefting the weapon, a smile slowly formed on his lips, pretty good balance too. Listening absently to Faendal moving stuff around in the chest, Mickaelos took a couple of practice swings with the sword, his smile growing even wider. Yes, I think this will be a pretty good replacement, though I might want to have it sharpened sooner rather than later he mused before sliding the blade into the sheath strapped to his hip before crouching to examine the corpse of the monster.

A lot more armored than the others, pretty sturdy looking, oh ho what is this? Reaching out Mickaelos hand grasped a bulging satchel from that was slung over one shoulder of the monster, the old leather strap breaking easily and surprising him at how heavy what ever was in the stachel. Opening the satchel his eyes fell upon a stone carved with flowing runes and pictures, hmmm...this might be worth keeping a hand on, standing up Mickaelos fiddeled around with his belt till he managed to tied the satchel to it before turning around to see what Faendal found in the chest.

Leaning over Faendal's shoulder to peer into the chest, Mickaelso felt some disappointment seeing that it was hardly filled at all, "Found anything interest?"

Shaking his head a bit, Faendal rested his hands upon the lip of the chest, "Looks like a couple of bags full of coins, a few random gems, what looks like a magic staff and several rings and necklaces.", frowning Faendal picked up a necklace before smiling, "Though...I think the jewelry might be enchanted, this one is enchanted to help improve someone's archery...I believe I will be taking his one...", seeing Mickaelos shrug his shoulders Faendal swiftly put the necklace on and soon he felt the old magic working before returning his gaze towards the chest.

Eventually they emptied the chest, each one examining the items and a book that Faendal noticed when he took out one of the bags of coins. Handing the book to Mickaelos he went back to testing out each necklace and ring to see if there were any more enchanted ones.

Studying the book, Mickaelos lips curved into a smile, "Well, well looks like I found myself a new spell book for conjuring a flame atronach, yep yep this will come in quite handy when I have time to read it and commit the spell to memory.", placing the book aside for now Mickaelos hand reached out to study the magical staff.

While Mickaelos was studying the staff, Faendal had discovered two rings whose enchants seemed to make him feel healthier and one that made his rather small magicka pool bigger, Mickaelos might find these more useful as he tossed the rings towards the book before sliding the rest into his pile. One ring though he separated to place into his pocket before sliding the two bags of coins towards Mickaelos, "There is about five hundred coins in these two bags, which I think you should take.", grinning as he saw Mickaelos nod as he placed the staff down.

"Looks like this staff shoots out a frost spell, so with this, the two rings and the spell book...oh and the sword I grabbed from the monster makes the splitting of the treasure even.", getting up Mickaelos eyes fell upon two old knapsacks in the chest, reaching in he pulled them out tossing one to Faendal before crouching down to place his items into the other. "These bags should last till we get back to Riverwood. I don't know about you, but I think its time to leave.", slinging the bag over one shoulder, a hand gripping the staff and making it a walking stick he waited till Faendal was ready for heading towards the steps that led to an opening.

It would be several hours before the two finally reached the stone bridge, Mickaelos stooping to transfer his items into the knapsack he got from Lucan. Using the strings on the bag he also secured the magical staff to the top of the bag, having already placed the stone tablet inside. Turning to face Faendal, Mickaelos reached down before unhooking the golden claw from his belt. With a grin he toss the claw towards the surprised mer, who nearly dropped the claw before taking a strong grip on it, "Well go ahead and deliver that claw to Lucan and his sister.", giving the surprised mer a wink Mickaelos turned around and started heading down the road that led to Whiterun.

Surprised Faendal was frozen as his eyes fell down to stare at the golden skin of the claw, the metal shining in the early evening sun before realizing what it meant, what it would like if he came into the store holding the claw. I couldn't do that, no if...if he..., looking up swiftly his eyes widened as he saw that Mickaelos had already vanished from sight. For a moment he stared at the empty road, before clasping the claw to his chest, as he lowered his head, "May be the Eight watch over you my friend.", for a moment Faendal stood still before whispering under his breath, "My talos guide you."

Later that night

Plopping down in a chair smiled as the drunk Lucan waved before heading to the stairs, Camilla sitting down in the other one the two just sat quietly as Lucan stumbled up the steps, the sound of him stumbling to his bed. As Faendal sat in silence, his mind on the gold that Lucan tried to give him, and his refusal which turned into a small party as Lucan broke open a bottle of brandy. For a moment his eyes drifted over to the ancient nordic bow that replaced his broken hunting bow before smiling faintly.

"Whats on your mind Faendal?", reaching over Camilla placed her hand upon his own, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.

Turning his gaze towards the woman he loved, knowledge that it was time to tell her, "You remember that Imperial the entered your store this morning?"

Tiling her head, her loose hair falling over one shoulder as a coy smile formed on her lips, "Of course, for a second I thought he was going to offer to help retrieve the claw. But the coward left and I haven't seen him since.", for a moment frowning her eyes puzzled, "Why do you ask?"

Smiling, hoping beyond hope that he wasn't throwing away a chance that was given to him when he entered the store with the claw but knowing he couldn't live with himself if he didn't tell the truth, "That man was no coward, he risked his life to help me and I know he probably could have done it by himself he still allowed me to come along knowing I couldn't...I wouldn't have been able to it alone.", sighing his gaze falling to the table as his voice trembled, "Through all that danger he made sure that...that I didn't...well he was always in front and I barely felt like I was in any danger. Yet, after we got back to town instead of returning the claw he decided to let me have the glory.", sighing as he drew a deep breath, "No man or mer for that matter has ever done something like that...at least for me and I couldn't hide the fact knowing that if it was thought I did that myself that my heart's desire..."

Falling silent, his head still bowed as he felt Camilla getting up before walking around the table to stand beside him, expecting the worse he was surprised to feel her arms wrapped around him. "You cute but very silly mer, I saw you two at the bridge and the man tossing the claw over. I of course won't tell my brother...but...", turning his gaze to look up into her eyes, a soft smile curving her lips as she gazed fondly down at him as she lowered her face even closer, "The moment you told me what I saw...I realized something..."

"What...", his voice choking with emotion, Faendal's heart started pounding. Instead of answering Camilla simply lowered her lips to his, that was enough of an answer as his arms steeled around her.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Auther Note:: My I have been busy, but anyhow took me awhile to figure out how to set up this one since it adds the reasoning and some of the past that Mickaelos is running from. Anyhow hoping people are enjoying the storyline as much as I am enjoying writing it.

=====Break====

So, how did I end up in this situation, squinting into the early afternoon sun before shaking his head-Mickaelos of course knew why he was now crouching upon a fire scorched battlement of a shattered wall around a guard tower. Next time I find some random stone with strange markings upon it, I will chuck the thing into a river, sliding along the wall and not for the last time wishing he had some talent in archery as a roar erupted from a dark winged shaped that was speedily getting closer. Briefly his mind couldn't help but wonder when running from a dragon actually amounted to a person having experience in dealing with one.

Though, I did see how well people did against a dragon, and with that thought Mickaelos banged his head against the stone wall, more like knowing how easily one can die from a multitude of exceedingly painful methods a dragon could employ.

As the dragon roared, its dark shadow flying over the few guardsman and that housecarl that seemed gung-ho in battling a pretty much born war machine-Mickaelos reached down to let his fingers curl around the frostbite staff that he was now decidedly overjoyed that he didn't have a chance to sell the staff. Lifting the staff up, listening as the dark elf yelled out commands towards the guards-he admitted the dark elf had a pretty good grasp on tactics as she had the guardsmen spread out as she herself readied a spell, probably a lightening spell considering the sparks dancing around her hand. Though Mickaelos was studying the dragon as it wheeled around, watching its wings spread out as it curved into a turn in the sky. Flies almost like a bat but with a much larger body, was it some type of magic that it uses?

Hmmm...I wonder how it keeps those wings insulated, without feathers or even fur the blood vessels within those membranes..., letting his thoughts trail off as the dragon made its approach Mickaelos could almost hear a phrase, of course he didn't have time to listen as he was busy rolling against the stone as a stream of fire burst from the dragon's mouth. Flatting himself against the stone as much as possible, his face pressed against the cold stone while covering his head with his arms as he felt heat wash over him. The screams of a man making him shiver, the course yells of the housecarl trying to be heard over the screaming man and the smell of burning wood with the pungent smell of burnt meat.

I really wish I went to that damn hall first, but no of course I had to see the Jarl first instead of seeing about joining...wait what was that group again...The Conclave...wait that sounds more like witches instead of warriors, damn it whatever they are I wouldn't be right now fighting an overgrown lizard. Finished with his own thoughts Mickaelos got up into a crouch, both hands gripping the staff tightly as his eyes followed the flying dragon as it vanished behind the tower. Aware that the screaming of the man had died down as the housecarl shouted out orders, the yelling of men as they moved around to somewhere behind the tower and the roaring of the dragon gave Mickaelos some time straighten up, strange this one hasn't caused any flaming balls of rocks to come crashing down, he thought briefly yet the sudden death scream of a man and a roar dragged his thoughts back to the battle.

The heat of the fires that from the dragon, the sweat that formed upon his brow as he watched the scaled form of the dragon appear once again in flight from behind the tower. He was dimly aware of the shouts and yells from the men and women fighting the dragon, awfully aware that their numbers were far lower now than before, something had to be done sooner rather than later he thought.

A jagged arc of lightening erupting from the house carl's hand, the bellow of the dragon though it sounded more from anger than pain as it flew some distance away before making that gliding turn as one wing almost touched the ground as it straightened out. It was heading straight towards him, Mickaelos could almost make out the reptile like eyes homing in on the figure holding a staff and dressed in only a belt tunic and leather pants. Releasing one hand from the staff, eyes never leaving the dragon as flames started licking along his hand, his other readied the staff before feeding a bit of his own magicka to activate the spell enchanted within the staff, the sapphire gem gleaming a cold light before frost shot out.

Keeping the staff straight, the blue white stream hitting the dragon square on in the face was the moment that he dropped the staff before lifting his flame shrouded hand to send a torrent of flame, his feet already moving as he maintained the flame spell.

The dragon now enraged and intent of finishing off the figure, the frost stinging its face was bad enough but when the flame suddenly followed right after melting the frost into scalding water before evaporating into steam. The constant stream of flames only annoying it, the dragon decided to end this joor with his own flames. What it didn't know, with its eye sight hindered by the first the frost then the steam and flames and its own rage that it was falling into the trap that Mickaelos had laid out.

Leading the dragon, Mickaelos watched as it once more mouthed that phrase before cutting off his flames to jump off the stone ramp, falling to the ground and rolling from his speed before rolling against the stones that had fallen from the ramp. Covering his head again and moving his bruised body against the two stones as he felt the heat wash over him again, but as suddenly as the heat occured he heard a painfilled roar, the high keening crack of breaking stone as a large body fell causing the ground to tremble.

Mindful of the burns that he knew was on his body-but knowing the dragon was still alive-Mickaelos levered himself off the ground back into a crouch as he looked over the stone that was shield him. Taking in the dragon roaring, its wing bent after having collided with the tower itself, though ducking behind large stone as its tailed struck the top of the ramp behind him sending a shower of small stones to fall upon him. It was with a huge amount of relief when he heard the war cries of the guards and the strident tone of the house carl as they started attacking the now grounded dragon.

Keeping one hand upon the ground, head lowered behind the stone Mickaelos drew forth the blade that he had taken from the draugr-he probably should of went to that blacksmith that was arguing with that man instead of heading straight to the Jarl's palace. The shouts of the men and women fighting the dragon mixed with its roars, he shuddered when its tail once again smoted the stone he was hiding behind sending chips flying in all directions. It was then that Mickaelos realized that he had definitely chosen the worse spot, that dragon's tail whipping all about it didn't even have to aim for him just a glancing blow would result in injuries upon his still unarmored form. So for the time being he hunkered down, sword clasped in his right hand as a slight twisting of the corner of his lip he wondered if the guards and that housecarl would finish off the dragon-and how long his meager shelter would last.

Of course considering how much the ground trembled and the roars from that dragon it seems debatable, and to make his smirk from earlier collapse into a frown as out of the corner of his eyes he saw the form of the house carl slam into the stone of the ramp that he was back up against. Twisting his gaze towards the fallen woman, her red hair contrasting to her grey-blue skin and from his view point the rich color of blood also made it quite plain to see that the woman was definitely wounded. That and that at that moment he had no idea if she was still breathing when blood soaked claws gripped the top of the stone.

The joor that led this pathetic rabble had finally made a mistake, and Mirmulnir had taken advantage when the female mer tried to defend one of the other joors by sending the mer flying against the crumbling stone edifice with his head. He would finish her off perhaps eat her to regain some of his strength safe in the knowledge that without her the rest of the joor would fall in no time, their weapons barely breaking through his scales, though the one that had resulted in the breaking of his wing and the shame of being tricked he hoped died by his breath-no he desired that particular joor died something about him made even he a dragon wary.

Twisting his body, pain throbbing as he put weight upon the wing that was broken, how he detested this situation he was in for simply answering the call of Alduin. Didn't he out of all survived what those higher than him failed to do so, and here he was acting as a raider instead of a leader. Nonetheless he would vent his frustration upon the city, but after he devoured this mer and her rag tag group that thought they could take upon a being such as himself.

"Joor, listen well. Your era is over and ours begin anew. Sadly you will not see but take solace in knowing that you have been graced by a better to speak in your lowly tongue.", pulling back his lips, fangs gleaming in the light of the sun how quaint that this mer would not realize the honor he had so graciously gifted her.

"Housecarl...Irileth. Men of Whiterun Sovngarde awaits!", hefting his warhammer, yet shoulders slumping the knowledge that none of the few left standing would reach the dragon in time to save the dunmer that had led them against the dragon who after that unknown hero had downed the beast took up the charge in fighting the downed monster.

As the last standing guardsmen rushed towards the dragon, one man flying away as its tail slammed into him, their weapons raised in defiance at the heroics of the house carl and the man who had come out of nowhere they would sell their lives dearly this day. The head of the dragon lifting up as it spoke, its teeth flashing before its head flashed downwards, a cry from a shield maiden at the end of the house carl. Yet, the dragon's sudden shriek of pain caused the rushing nords to stop in their tracks for as if out of thin air the man who had downed the dragon stood with feet braced and both hands upon the hilt of his sword plunged its blue glowing blade under the dragon's jaw. Both his thrust and the dragon's own momentum force the blade deep into the monster, and from the dragon's fanged mouth and almost patheticly meek, "Dovaakin!?NO!"

What he did was beyond suicidal, and yet knowing him he knew the action could be pulled off for as the dragon's head surged forward Mickaelos stepped from his concealment sword held out in both hands. Thrusting, shoulders and legs braced for the impact as the point of his blade pierced the softer scales of its throat helped along by the dragon's own strength allowed the ancient blade to slide almost nearly to the crossguard. Body straining against the weight of the head alone, his eyes level with that eye of the dragon's whose iris and widen in shock before the telltale fading of light. A sudden body slamming into his own causing both him and his saver to fall away from the fallen bulk of the dragon, the ground rushing to meet him as rocks tore through both clothes and his own skin as he and the female dunmer slid a short distance as the dragon thrashed in its death throes.

In the back of his head, he thought perhaps he should have worn the steel armor that Balgruuf gave him instead of rushing out behind the house carl. At least I had the forsight to leave my bag at Dragonreach, with that thought Mickaelos struggled to catch his breath that had unfortunately left him when he hit the ground and when the weight of the dunmer landed upon him fully armored in leather armor. Yes, he definitely should have worn that armor.

A few moments passed before Irileth managed to drag herself off the man that had brought both the news of the dragon attack upon Helgen and the dragonstone. Lips pulled back tightly as she moved her hand to her broken arm that hung loosely at her side, white light forming as the pain went from a constant dagger in her side to a dull throb as she gazed at the man sit up, one side of his face covered in blood. The sleeve of his right arm shredded to ribbons, blood soaking through the fabric as the man took a deep breath, and Divines the man was actually smirking as his eyes gazed at the dragon.

Gazing with a faint feeling of bemusement towards the fallen dragon, So...we managed to kill a dragon. Shaking his head before leaning back his hands resting upon the ground and though he hurt he realized that he managed to escape relatively unharmed except for a number of cuts, but he probably could survive till they got back to the city. Of course what happened next well even Mickaelos was shocked.

As her men gathered around, Irileth let her usual stoic expression fall, so many of the men and women that had followed her only. Looking up at the sky, the sun still high in the air and bright before returning her red gaze to stare at the five guardmen, one leaning heavily upon another. For a brief moment she let her grief wash over her before taking control of her feelings, red eyes hardening with her lips stiffened, "We have slain a dragon, and our allies will take that tale to Sovngarde! Now...", voice cracking as streams of bright light shot out of the body of the dragon to swirl around the man sitting upon the ground. It was with little comfort to her that the man also was as shocked as she and from the cries of her group that he was just as alarmed.

Irileth stood to the side observing, one of the guardsman had come up to announce that the stranger must be Dragonborn, when the man tried to refute it and resulted in causing the man to stumble from a force that erupted from his mouth, she took note of the word "Fus", in the end the man, shoulders slumped moved over to collect his sword from the now skeleton of the dragon-Irileth had looked upon with amazement as the scales and skin, everything seem to have vanished into the light into the man. Before leaving the man had informed her that he would go ahead to inform Balgruuf about the demise of the dragon, she had in turn offered her name and thanks, and for a moment that smile returned but the look in the man's eyes was hardened, not in anger but rather in the knowledge that something had changed before waving farewell as he headed back to Whiterun.

So as she stayed with her remaining force, both to encourage them over having killed a dragon she couldn't help but think of that final look of the man.

=====Break=====

Mickaelos had first taken a look up at the remains of the stone ramp that he stood upon to see if he could find the staff he dropped-despite the lack of charges he could still probably sell it-instead he found a rather well charred piece of wooden with a cracked saphire. Shaking his head before jumping from the ramp, grimancing as he felt some of the numerous cuts and scratches on his body, more than a few started to bleed again but thankfully the cut upon his forehead had stopped so he started to make his way back to Whiterun. As he walked, and it was with some grim humor that despite his wounds what happened with the light and the dragon managed to make the pain a very distant thought. Sighing, so it wasn't really what the guard said, well perhaps a little bit but it was more like it just made his over arching issue more of a front and center issue than he liked.

Shaking his head, Mickaelos tore his gaze towards the approaching city, the forest to his right the sounds of this entire land, he had that vague feeling of how much it felt like home. Of course what he felt when that light entered his body, the memories of feelings of the dragon that was slain-well that opened up a whole can of worms. So the knowledge that he was also something called Dragonborn well that in itself lends a very immense problem at his feet in this land, a reputation, word of mouth however you label the damn thing it means his ultimate problem might just get known and that would be a terrible thing.

And that ultimate reality of the problem is that you are for lack of a better word are a two hundred year old Imperial man with no touch of elf blood, with the uncanny ability that you can't be killed. Oh you can die, and you can die some pretty horrendous deaths like being turn asunder by a huge pack of wolves, crushed by a boulder and my personal favorite getting your head cut off that one never ceases to be amusing. Though as the soft gurgling of a river broke into his thoughts, drowning was pretty terrible because you could drown multiple times you know the entire thing of hell you drown then when you come back to life you get to drown again till you managed to crawl out of the large pool of water. Of course in hindsight if you could heal wounds well this curse wouldn't be so bad, but no you had to die first so if you manage to survive losing an arm you would have to wait till you died till you could regrow the damn appendage again.

Though, as he reached up to stroke his chin, those memories and feelings of the dragon that entered me has given some food for thought. Apparently they can be killed but they can also be brought back to life unless something happens to its soul, he didn't quite know the importance of that but it did leave some credence as to why Skyrim felt like home at least and perhaps why he understood some of the words of the dragon language. Perhaps he could find out why and how this curse was made in the first place if he stayed, but if what the guard said was true he would have to be very careful not to have any life threatening moments that might make people wonder. This would be very hard.

Taking a small breath, allowing his mind to clear as he took the turn that would lead him to the gates of Whiterun.

"!DOVA-AH-KIIIN!"

The sudden trembling of the ground, as what ever uttered the word that the dragon did made Mickaelos stumble, several people also stumbling as each and all looked up towards a mountain peak. Darkly as the echoes of the yelling voices faded, but knowing that throughout the land they would last, Mickaelos realized that his ultimate problem had just gotten even harder.

====Break====

"I knew I could count on Irileth. But there must be more to it than that.", beaming Balgruuf leaned forward upon his thrown, and Mickaelos couldn't help but like the man. Despite the civil war the man was trying his best to care for his city, he truly cared for his people and takes being the symbol of their city seriously considering and even making actions.

"Well, I don't really hold much credence to this and all but I might also be something...well...a...errrr...Dragonborn.", as his eyes looked to the side, he had considered lying but the knowledge that Irileth would probably give a full report, not to mention he kinda of respected the Jarl despite well lets just say despite everything the man was at least thinking fully of his own city.

Sitting back upon his throne Balgruuf looked at the man before him with a mixture of amazement and envy, "So it's true. The Greybeards really were summoning you." Studying the man before him, the ruler of Whiterun still couldn't believe the non-descript Imperial that had appeared out of nowhere, only paying half a mind to the argument between his brother and his steward. Yet, as he leaned closer to study the man he realized with a start that despite the man's almost casual air the slight tension in his shoulders, the way the man seemed to hold himself, it was an act. This man, this Mickaelos Dorianth shoulders a burden almost willingly and yet before he had that air that it was by choice and now...that choice is gone.

Looking up towards his brother and steward, voice chiding his younger sibling, "Hrongar. Don't be so hard on Avenicci." Nodding his head before turning his attention towards the man, for a moment he wished that he could get to know him, there was an almost tangible feeling of utter solitude that the man despite his efforts couldn't quite hide.

I will leave that to Lydia to figure out, a smile growing on his lips after having already planned on offering the man a particular reward.

Standing up, Balgruuf reached down to pull out a dwarven sword, an enchantment sparking from its blade.

"That's the Greybeards' business, not ours. Whatever happened when you killed that dragon, it revealed something in you, and the Greybeards heard it. If they think you're Dragonborn, who are we to argue? You'd better get up to High Hrothgar immediately. There's no refusing the summons of the Greybeards. It's a tremendous honor. I envy you, you know. To climb the 7,000 Steps again...I made the pilgrimage once, did you know that? High Hrothgar is a very peaceful place. Very...disconnected from the troubles of this world. I wonder if the Greybeards even notice what's going on down here. They haven't seem to care before. No matter. Go to High Hrothgar. Learn what the Greybeards can teach you. You've done a great service to me and my city, Dragonborn. By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that's within my power to grant. I assign you Lydia as a personal housecarl, and this weapon from my armory to serve as your badge of office. I'll also notify my guards of your new title. Wouldn't want them to think you're part of the common rabble, now would we? We are honored to have you as Thane of our city, Dragonborn. Back to business, Proventus. We still have a city to defend."

Smiling as he noticed Mickaelos scowl briefly before his lips stretched to reveal his teeth before bowing as he accepted the sword and of course the title. Sorry my friend, but I think this will do you some good, he thought briefly before turning his attention back to figuring out to best defend his city from both a civil war and dragons.

About facing, knowing that he was pretty much dismissed Mickaelos made his way to the right of the steps to retrieve his bag, after settling the bag's straps upon his shoulders he turned his attention towards the sword that Balgruuf gave him. It was rather nice, he always liked Dwemer weapons, pretty reliable though he could have done without the title but the idea of buying a house and actually having a home to go to was actually despite himself a pleasant idea. It took some doing but he managed to get belt holding the Dwemer sword to his back the hilt poking over his left shoulder while keeping the ancient blade upon his left hip. Though he disliked dual wielding, he preferred either a shield or keeping one hand free, he had some skill in the ability if he ever needed to fight in that particular style.

Having made sure he was all squared away, his thoughts now turned to how to move about this realm while keeping his problem secret and also how to accumulate the septims needed to buy a house. He of course didn't think that he was actually to grow to like the idea of settling down instead of moving from one area to the next, especially since it might take him awhile to set off towards a trek up a mountain. Besides as he started walking, its not like I am a bad fighter, two hundred or so odd years of living you get a knack of how to fight without dying, the key is never try to take on to much that you can't handle it yourself. Oh and avoid any type of assassins but I think that is more of a given for everyone so try not to piss people off overly much.

Of course, as with everything Mickaelos didn't realize another complication was coming up till he felt her hand upon his shoulder.

"Hello my thane, I am sworn to protect both your possessions and your life with my life. My name is Lydia and the Jarl has given me the greatest of honors but to become your housecarl.", the black tresses woman dressed in steel armor removed her hand to bow, the braids in her hair shifting to rest upon her shoulders as she straightened up to give Mickaelos a tenative smile.

From this moment a great friendship would be formed, well an often tried friendship, and upon this moment Mickaelos uttered one word to mark this occasion, "What?"

Mickaelos would later reflect that Lydia managed to keep her smile, and even managed to lift one eyebrow as she shot back in answer, voice lilting, "I am sworn to carry your burdens."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Author's Note: Well been pretty busy, between work and trying to write another story line and editing this coming chapter. Hopefully it does sound to rushed.

So, Whiterun isn't too bad of a city-well paved roads, an excellent market place with many stores and stalls to choose from, and the people seem for a lack of a better word friendly and boisterous. After leaving the palace he decided to take a bit more time to actually look around the city-also it was something to take his mind off another fact that was at this moment walking behind him. While passing a rather dead looking tree, and wondering why no one has bothered to cut it down he couldn't help but notice a small girl sitting dejectedly upon a bench. Now don't get him wrong though he did spend some time in the company of people that might take a liking to children he himself was strictly on the level, what drew his attention to this particular child was that unlike the several running around she had the appearance of someone who saw the world as it truly was-a very unforgiving place.

Of course he couldn't help but remember the Great War, or the sacking of the Imperial City by the Aldmeri Dominion and the hundreds of children who lost everything-and he meant everything-but that was different, it was larger and the only way to keep moving was not to really pay attention, not to give it that feeling of how wrong. Not to mention the eventual fates of most of those children, well to keep his own sanity he looked away from their plight-its why in his own opinion immortality just made you realize how utterly powerless you truly were.

Snapping his mind back to the present, he eyed the little girl-he couldn't help but notice how worn and dirty her simple dress was, or the dirt smudging her face and the unkempt hair. Or the way she had her hands placed on her stomach, she hasn't eaten in awhile, he mused. He was dimly aware of Lydia standing behind him, she was another issue he would have to deal with eventually but for now he actually had a task for her, this child would help in a small way all those he could not help so long ago-he knew it was a small drop in the sins of omission during those days but it was a start.

"Lydia how much does the Bannered Mare charge for a room for a day?", turning his head slightly to ask the housecarl the question, so it was with some amusement when he noticed the blank look, the way her body reacted to such a sudden question.

Why is he asking such a random question, Lydia thought to herself, she of course noticed the child and for a moment she had a truly sick idea in regards how long her thane was gazing at the child sitting upon the bench in the worn dress. Oh by the Divines, is my Thane one of those men that took his fancy among children. Imperials truly are a race of men without honor. It was strange how sometimes a person's mind goes from zero to hundred in only a few seconds in some topics because Lydia now truly thought her Thane was a dastardly man indeed.

She felt her lips forming into a scowl, her brown eyes staring daggers at her Thane's back, "I believe Hulda the owner charges a ten gold a day for the use of one of her rooms...you bas-Thane.", she quickly ground out the word thane, she was considerably started when the man in front of her simply laughed softly.

"Well Lydia your BAS-Thane, wishes for you to take this purse of I believe roughly four-hundred gold pieces and barter a room plus board for some odd days. Oh and if isn't to much to ask inquire Hulda if she could use some of the coins for clothing for a child.", laughing again, Mickaelos reached down to the coin purse when he separated a sum of coins in order to buy himself some armor-having simply asked Balgruuf that coins would be easier instead of the set of steel armor and helmet he offered as rewards.

Turning around to face Lydia, he couldn't help as his lips curved upwards, as he tossed the coin purse towards the steel clad house carl, she has the look like she wants to run something through with that steel sword of hers, he mused.

Catching the thrown purse, the coins clinking around, "As you wish my Thane.", glaring towards the man as he turned his back to her, already making his way to the child who looked up with childish hope. She felt sick, as she turned away from the scene to make her way towards the Bannered Mare, the purse of coins feeling like a weight greater than it should be tugging her arm down. Inwardly she knew she had to do something, but she felt trapped by her oath as a housecarl-the knowledge that there were other Thanes just like this disgusting man with more or less honorable house carls powerless to do anything because of those oaths.

Sighing, clutching the purse against her steel clad chest as she thought at least the child would be fed and housed for a few days before her Thane would lose interest in her and perhaps Lydia could arrange something for the child. That was probably the only thing she could, lessen the damage this man who had become a hero for her hold-even though she had a hard time even picturing him as something other than a weak willed man.

Upon entering the Bannered Mare, she gave a sullen nod towards the new girl Saadia, "Oh hoi there Lydia I heard the news. Isn't it amazing your dream of serving a Thane has finally come to pass, bout time our Jarl finally elected a Thane.", for a moment Lydia couldn't stop the cringe as Hulda waved her over to the bar, the older woman's mouth split into a grin though the brightness of her eyes faded a bit seeing Lydia's paler expression and the less than joyful expression she expected to see on her dear friend's daughter.

"Lass, are you okay, you look like you just ate a bad boiled sweet.", laughing weakly after mentioning Lydia's one childish weakness Hulda placed a mug of mead before Lydia, "Consider this on the house in celebration of attaining your position, Housecarl."

Smiling weakly, Lydia picked up the mug before taking a sip of the mead, "Yeah, I guess.", she mumbled out, the weight of the coin purse held in her other hand sucking a bit more out of her.

More than a little concerned, this was opposite of what she expected from Lydia who had as a little child had no dreams other than serving a Thane, "So your Thane, can you believe it, I mean slaying a dragon and if the rumors are true he is a Dragonborn. You little scamp what Divine did you pray to for that.", once again Hulda tried to inject something, anything into Lydia's expression, that look just didn't suit the beautiful young woman sitting before her at all.

"Yeah, he is something isn't he, everything a housecarl could wish for.", letting out a soft breath, Lydia managed a weak smile, "Sorry, I am still kinda of overwhelmed. I know I should be happier but...well you know the burden I just realized I might have to carry."

Ah I see, the poor girl just realized how much weight is on her thane's shoulders which she realized she too had to help carry. Reaching out a hand to place it upon the young woman's armored shoulder, "Don't worry child, you will be a splendid housecarl.", her smile returning when Lydia managed a wider smile, if a shaky one as she downed the rest of the mead. "You know you can always come in and be just Lydia, you know that right?"

Squaring her shoulders, it was part of her duty at least to carry the burden of her thane-even if it was detestable. "Thanks Hulda, that means a lot. Anyhow my Thane asked me to inquire how many days for a room and food would get with this.", placing the coin purse upon the bar top as Hulda reached out to weigh it before dumping out the coins, stacking them as she counted.

Furrowing her brow in thought Hulda made a few calculations, "Well, with what you gave me there is enough for at least just a bit over a fortnight. But, its only enough for one person...", her eyes widening when a thought struck her, Lydia was a lovely woman and when not in armor many men eyed her. Don't tell me her Thane...that explains, she thought.

"Lydia girl, is your Thane...is your thane forcing you to sleep with him.", unable to hide the anger in her voice, Hulda was actually considering going to this man right now to give him a piece of her mind.

Lydia actually flinched in surprise, how did this go in such a direction, "No, I mean Divines no Hulda...I mean the room, I mean...", flustered beyond belief, even more so when she realized that Hulda was now eyeing the door and preparing to storm out to confront her thane. Belatedly she realized that wouldn't be such a bad idea till the realization that she would be the focus, and oh Divines she didn't want that at all.

"Hold it, it isn't what you think Hulda. He wants the room and food for a child he found on the street. Which reminds me he also wanted to see if you can purchase clothes for the child as well.", she finished miserably as her shoulders slumped a bit.

Leaning back Hulda eyed Lydia, she felt that the woman was telling the truth because since a young age her tongue would have broken telling a lie. Shaking her head before letting out a breath, "Just tell your Thane to send the child over, I will have a room and food ready...the clothes through might take awhile."

"Thank you Hulda..", getting up Lydia once again gave a weak smile before retreating from the inn quickly.

"Curious...", shaking her head, as she pushed the stacks of coins into the bin beneath the counter.

Leaning against the door, Lydia had no idea how that suddenly went it did. Attempting to regain her composure, though with all her thoughts jumbled-she did in the end defend the man despite, well her oath. Shaking her head, strands of her hair tickling her cheeks before straightening up, she had to go inform her Thane that it was settled for the child to stay at the inn for awhile.

Making her way back towards where the Gildergreen towered dead over several benches where her Thane found the girl. Lydia was considering her mental state taken fully unaware by what greeted her.

A child's bright laughter echoing through the air, still sitting upon the bench the young child's eyes were wide with mirth, a smile gracing her lips with her thane crouching infront of her. What was more startling was the smile on his lips, the eyes that glowed with amusement at finding an audience.

"What happened next after you threw the snowball into his face.", the child's voice squealed.

Leaning his head back to laugh, "Well, he went "Blarghhhhh...you got me!" And he fell over like this.", flinging out his arms wide, her thane fell straight onto his back, a winch coming unbidden to her, and yet the man continued to laugh before adding, "You have bested me good sir, you may now cross the bridge to rescue the fair maiden.", sitting up to rest one arm upon a knee.

"And and and and...the fair maiden?", the child's hands clasped infront of her waiting for the ending of the story.

As she moved forward, Lydia noticed what the child didn't notice a slight tinge of sadness touching the man's soft brown eyes that belied the man's wide smile, or the cheerful voice.

Tilting his head back to gaze at the dead tree's crown, "The fair maiden could finally rest in peace after her ordeal, with the knowledge that she could finally return to happier times.", with a grin he lowered head to reveal a wide smile, "But for our hero, well he has much to do and right now he is also helping a young maiden. Oh hey Lydia perfect timing. You can tell our maiden here the good news.", twisting his head to give Lydia that vexing smile.

"Miss, miss is it true, is it is it.", the child's wide eyes turning their gaze onto Lydia, and for some reason her knees felt really weak at that moment.

What is it with children when they turn those types of eyes onto an adult, "Ummm...yes, I mean you can stay at the Inn for some time, I mean everything is taken care of...", out of the corner of her mouth she whispered to the plainly amused man still sitting on the ground, "What in the Divines did you tell her?"

Laughing, Mickaelos got up from the ground, "Well Luccia here made a deal with me, I will help pay for her room and board. But in return she...", twisting his head towards the beaming young girl who had jumped off from the bench.

"And I promised to listen to his stories every time he returns to Whiterun!", with a squeal of joy she ran up hug Mickaelos, a surprised look appearing on his face for a moment before a a softeness spread over his features, "You promise to come back soon right, because because...I want to hold up my end and listen to your stories."

Lydia watched amazed, as Mickaelos reached down to pet the top of the girl's head gently, "No worries, only the Divines themselves could stop me from telling you my stories."

For a moment the girl's voice held the weight of unshed tears, "You promise, you won't go like my parents did...you promise."

Smiling that soft smile, Mickaelos pushed the girl away to look into her tear brimmed eyes, "I promise nothing in this world can take me to where you parents are.", turning the child around, "Now head over to the "Bannered Mare, and get a good meal and take a look at your room you will be staying for awhile in."

For several seconds the small child stood still, but soon her shoulders straightened as she started heading towards the inn. But before she vanished she turned around to wave and yell back, "Thank You!" Before vanishing down the stairs.

Lydia stood still, quietly studying the man as the softness faded from his features. They in turn melding back to that almost passive cheerfulness she first saw on his face when they met in the palace. It was also with some embarrassment that she felt her cheeks starting to burn when she happened to remember that only a few moments before she thought the man before her was the worse and instead nothing in that scene hinted at anything her mind had cooked up.

Eventually they found themselves walking side by side through Whiterun, Mickaelos humming some sort of tune as they made their way towards the gates of Whiterun.

"Why didn't you..I mean defend yourself earlier when, I mean when...", Lydia started lamely as she eyed Mickaelos out of the corner of her eye.

Tilting his head to the side, as he waved towards the female blacksmith who thanked him for delivering a sword to the steward at Dragonreach, "Humm...because words are basically useless.", drawling lazily as they stopped to wait for the guards to open the gates to the city, "At that point your mind was made up, and hell I just didn't feel like wasting the time so I didn't bother."

Gritting her teeth, this man was annoying and infuriating, "So why did you make it look like, I mean you laughed knowing full well how it would look!"

Eyeing the steaming woman beside him, "I didn't really do anything if you think about it, you just added more context to it than I did."

As they walked through the gate, Lydia almost took out her sword to whack the man over the head-with the flat of the blade she reminded herself. Gritting her teeth, oh she knew deep down she would probably spend much time grinding her teeth down in the future, "I don't know if I hate your or like you...but I hate some of your methods."

With a laugh, Mickaelos only shook his head, "So how long are you going to follow me, I imagine you will be quite happy with a break from my "methods"."

For a moment Lydia was tempted to say she could stop following him, but some perverse part of her that she didn't even realize she had till she met him reared up, "Oh no, I am sworn to follow you. To protect your life and belongings.", she answered snidely.

Lydia took some glee when she saw the man stumble a few steps as they passed one of the ruined arches of the walls that surrounded the city, "You know you don't have to, I mean...come on."

Oh my, she didn't realize how perverse the amount of joy she was having now seeing the man's usual demeanor disturbed, "Oh no my Thane, I must ensure you can keep your promise to Luccia. Wouldn't want something awful to happen to you, its a dangerous world out there and I am your sword and your shield.", leaning forward slightly to tilt her head up to give the man a wink, "In other words you are stuck with me."

As they passed the gate that led out to the farmlands, a camp of khajit merchants set up near them, Mickaelos gazed up at the sky and wondered how the hell would he keep his secret now with this stubborn woman following behind him. You probably should have bought some armor before leaving the city you idiot, every single fight is now going to be a hassle now till you get something-and now he realized that he had a very valuable life walking beside him, its not like his own was valuable hell he would love to get rid of it eventually.

"I have a feeling like someone just hit me in the back of the head with the flat of their blade.", it was true he felt the start of a headache that probably would never fade for quite awhile forming.

Grinning to herself as she straightened up, "As you say my Thane."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Author's Note: Well I got a pretty good flow to this chapter and thought what the hell lets do something interesting that would develope Mickaelos even more. Immortal man this is going to be a challenge not to make him look too powerful but I think I have a few ideas on that.

"Please stop following me.", quirking her lips upwards at what was probably the hundredth time since leaving behind the Honeybrew Meadery that her Thane had requested her to desist following him. Despite how repetitive it gotten Lydia found a queer sense of amusement from refusing as she shook her head, brown hair swaying in the wind, "But my "Thane", who will protect your body and possessions if I am not around to do so?", stepping ahead before turning around, lips twisting into a playful smile, "Besides who else will you get to carry your oh so heavy burden of being the Dragonborn as well.", she didn't know why but every mention of that caused her Thane to lift his gaze to the sky-if asking the Divines a question.

So immersed in her playful torture of a man she found vexing-if not also a bit charming in a way that her mind refused to even consider as a good trait-Lydia wasn't watching where she was placing her booted feet when she felt something soft and yielding give way causing her to whirl wind her free arm, the other having a shield strapped upon her forearm. She might have regained her balance if her feet didn't back into a small obstacle that from the smell was of a decaying body.

As she felt the inevitable pull of gravity upon her steel clad body, that feeling where she knew a fall was immediate and the knowledge that from the smell she would soon be landing upon a dead body. Great, now I will not hear the end of this at all, she thought briefly before her mind was filled with the disgust as she felt gravity take hold.

A strong grip upon her forearm before a force pulled her forward, the feeling of a hard body before hearing the a grunt of pain as she felt the body fall away from her and the sounds of a man cursing a swearing followed soon after. Stumbling forward a bit, Lydia too feared she would soon follow her Thane down the small hill before she found her balance. Catching her breath, and after composing herself Lydia allowed her gaze to fall upon her thane who was now kneeling upon the path that curved up around the hill.

What she heard from her Thane's mouth froze the thanks she was about to say, "Well, I see how well you can protect my body and all, gee I wonder if this is protection I dread what you not protecting my "fragile" body would result in.", and of course there was that vexing cheerful smile, that man was infuriating.

Strangely instead of throwing something at him, Lydia instead lifted her free hand to let her fingers tips rest along her cheek, "Oh my, but look a small bump from a dainty lady such as I sent you over head heels, my if I but a fair maiden would send you reeling imagine the danger you would be in from less lady like women such as myself.", peeling her lips back to reveal a flash of white teeth.

Tsking to himself, her Thane stood up before tilting his head in mock thought, "Oh but I am a true gentleman, for I saved even a stonewall body woman such as you from stepping into something quite unpleasant...omph!", bending over suddenly as a rock collided with his stomach, which stopped the rest of what he would have said-Lydia for her part took that as a win as she stomped along the path, mindful to avoid the body of the dead wolf this time.

The rest of the walk towards Riverwood was several moments of Lydia throwing glares towards her Thane, and true to his nature since she had first met him was grinning that was vexing neutral. It was only with small satisfaction that every so often he would wince to rub either an arm or his stomach.

"So, my Thane I heard you were a visitor to Skryim; so how did you know you could get to Irvarstead?", glancing side long to her Thane, considering his actions and responses she at first thought the man would shirk the entire trip to meet the Greybeards. Perhaps I had wrongly judged him, she mused to herself.

"Ummm...actually Riverwood was the only town I actually really visited, you can get to Veristad from there? I had no idea.", absently nodding towards a young girl who waved excitedly towards him for a few moments before returning to arguing with a boy about the wisdom of dressing their dog up as a frostbite spider.

Gritting her teeth, and vainly attempting to keep a pleasant smile which looked more like a feral snarl, "Don't tell me you weren't thinking of visiting the Greybeards?!", the sheer effort not to scream the last part should have given Lydia a coronary, so much for being the house carl to a noble hero.

"Oh, eventually I might wind up there, you know taking a wrong turn somewhere and "Oh hey, I might as well visit the Blackbeards.", you know since I was in the vicinity.", Lydia didn't dare turn around, the knowledge that he was problably grinning that grin, by the Divines the wrong names, he was playing with her.

She could almost hear that tiny tinge of teasing in his voice as he added, "So I would feel considerably wrong to drag you everywhere since you had your heart set on meeting the WhiteBeards. Hey, why do you head there first and I will meet you there.", again instead of turning around a hitting the man, Lydia once more found that pervese side of her personality-it was almost a side effect of this vexing man.

"Oh no my Thane, where you go I shall follow. It is my sworn duty to be your shield and your sword. Besides, I would be guilt ridden if I didn't remind you of your "duty", knowing all the various activities that might take your attention. You being a very busy man of course.", darting ahead to face him, hands upon her hips as she smiled sweetly, the brief look of annoyance more than enough to cause her to smile.

With a shake of his head, Lydia quirking an eyebrow seeing the drop in his shoulders, "If you insist we can visit the Greybeards. So...", as Mickaelos was about to add something, a shout to the side cut his words off.

"You...you ruined everything you sopping milk drinker!", out of the corner of her eye Lydia noticed a tall blond nord man winding up to strike her Thane, time seemed to slow down around them it felt like. Upon the tavern deck a woman with grey streaked blond hair focused on them. Strange Lydia thought to herself the woman didn't seem concern more like she was curious as her eyes focused on her Thane instead of the madden.

A cry from the young girl, a shout of the young boy screaming about a fight as the fist moved towards her Thane's head. The tensing of her Thane's body, a slight twitch of an arm muscle before his body slacked suddenly, the fist impacting the side of his face sending his head turning as his body followed into the wooden deck where a big man with auburn hair and beard watched with wide eyes.

Time sped up, with anger in her eyes Lydia was about to draw her sword when her Thane lifted his hand up to forestall her movement, questions erupting within her mind. She watched her thane got up onto one foot, a knee resting up the ground as he reached up to massaged his redden cheek as blood flowed from one nostril and the corner of his lip.

"I take it you are Sven,", letting his hand drop, before turning his up towards the towering nord with hands held at his side breathing heavily, "you feel better now.", no my Thane, that was the wrong thing to say Lydia looked on in horror as the man screamed before reaching up to pull her thane up with one hand before sending his other into Mickaelos' gut, the punch causing her thane to open his mouth as saliva flew through the air to land on the air, mixed with the blood from his split cheek.

Lydia had watched many one sided fights in her life in Whiterun, but this fight took her breath away-fear for her thane as he made not a single move to defend himself against the unskilled brawler the man named Sven was. Already a crowd was forming, and yet no one was attempting to stop this fight-even a guard recently dispatched was watching the fight, she perhaps would intervene if the fight got deadly, perhaps.

Why is he not defending himself, Lydia thougtht to herself as she heard a few jeers from the town's drunk insulting her Thane. Gripping her sword tightly, she would disobey his command, if she didn't he might die or end up crippled if this fight lasted any longer as she watched Sven use both fights to hammer blow into her thane's back after he tripped him to send him sprawling against the wooden deck. Lydia noticed that the blacksmith was gone, no he wasn't he was coming back with his grip tight on a hammer.

Yet, before either the blacksmith or Lydia could do anything a piercing cry from a woman halted them and Sven, "Sven! What-what are you doing to him! You MONSTER!", twisting her head, Lydia caught sight of a lovely Imperial woman with brown hair staring in disgust towards Sven, the male nord paling as his eyes widened upon seeing the woman who was later joined by a wood elf, an ancient nordic bow strapped to his back. The bosmer's face was white with shock as well, his eyes riveted to the crumpled body of her Thane who despite the beating he received had managed to get to one knee.

Sven face crumpled, whispering one word, "Camilla...", before turning away and walking towards the gate soon he was gone. There was a story there, Lydia thought to herself but for now her focus was on her thane. He looked terrible, one eye nearly completely shut, blood flowing freely from his nose and a gash on his forehead. Or how labored his breathing was from the kicks the big nord had sent into his sides, and as Lydia rushed to his side she noticed the blacksmith was already there helping her thane to sit as a woman who had come rushing out the blacksmith's house knelt next to him. She was considerably startled to see the woman who was standing upon the deck of the inn already there, and in seconds both the woman Camilla and the bosmer was standing next to the group.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lydia saw the other townspeople disperse, the two children being led away by a tall blond nord in a green dress while the guard who had watched walked away while gazing up at the sky. Lydia would definitely make a report of that guard's lack in duty to Ireleth the next time she spoke with the Dunmer woman, what happened her shouldn't have been allowed to happen. Turning her attention back towards her Thane, she was startled to see the man smile, blood staining the white of his teeth as he peered up towards her.

"I guess, I won...", the words were shaky, and soon as he spoke her thane passed out.

Heart filled with worry, even though the man annoyed her she couldn't turn away from someone who was hurt-even though she still had no idea why he didn't even fight back.

"Alvor, Sigurd take him into the inn.", the woman from the inn stood up, taking charge of the group around the man as if it was the most natural thing in the world to her, "There should be a free bed, just tell Orgnar that it is fine with me if he asks any questions. Camilla does your store happen to have any healing potions, preferably something more than a regular health potion?", turning to the Camilla, her gaze brooking arguement about the cost.

"Yes, I believe we do, and I think Lucan will donate it free of charge. And if he doesn't I will remind him about the little claw issue he had awhile ago if he argues.", smiling weakly the young woman turn around to head towards a building with a sign hanging.

For several moments, the woman gazed around the now reduced group-the man Alvor and the woman Sigurd having carried her thane to the inn, "Faendal keep this woman company, I am going to use what healing magic I have to ease that man's pain.", with that the woman departed, heading towards the inn.

Lydia was in shock, not towards the fight but how quickly the woman had taken control of the situation. She almost sounded like a captain giving orders to her squad, Lydia felt if the woman gave her an order she would have jumped right to it like the rest despite she being duty bound to follow the orders of either her Jarl or her Thane. Yet, the confidence the woman gave off, the almost no nonsense way she delegated tasks, if her mind wasn't so muddled she might have thought that very odd but instead she was grateful as she stood with the bosmer in the now empty street that ran through the entire village.

While she came down, Lydia's gaze was focused upon the blood staining the ground, her Thane's blood. Though she found the man vexing and annoying, she also found that she also liked the man in that he could do amazingly sweet actions like promising a child and giving them a place to live for awhile. Perhaps he wasn't much of a fighter, she was one of the group who thought it was more of a group effort that downed the dragon-but again he never really took credit for any part in that either she realized belatedly. He was an enigma, she knew he would eventually make his way to the Greybeards, but she also knew he wasn't in a rush to do so either. In the end he was her Thane, and she let him get beaten so badly-despite him ordering her not to she realized she should have intervened.

She nearly forgot about Faendal standing beside her till he spoke, "Mickaelos should have been able to beat Sven. So why...Sven only has his size and strength going for him in a fight, and not even much skill.", shaking his head he reached up to place a hand upon Lydia's shoulder, "That man is a hard one to figure out, don't dwell much on about him. Just know that what he does is for a reason, even if by the Divines what reason it was for.", with a grin Faendel moved away to walk towards the building that Camilla entered, "I don't envy you traveling with him, but just know that man's a good one, if an odd Imperial if I ever saw one. Getting beaten up for whatever reason.", with a laugh he opened the door to the shop before vanishing.

Lydia watched and listened with her mouth hanging open, apparently she realized that she wasn't the only one who had the "pleasure" of being her thane's traveling partner, but doing something for a reason. As she pondered that, though she still felt worry she realized that several people in this village cared about her Thane, she didn't know why but in the end it was a good thing as she entered the inn. Sitting down upon the bench, she had taken a look at the room and realized there was too many people in there, so she contented with taking a seat facing the room so she could watch.

While she watched the woman heal her thane, Camilla bursting through the door followed by Faendal with two red potions, Alvor the blacksmith leaving right after though his wife stayed for awhile helping by doing what she could with linens and water. Faendal took a spot against a wall to lean against, giving Lydia a brief nod.

Knowing there wasn't much she could do but be in the way, Lydia instead thought about what she knew about her Thane. He was kind, yet he didn't bother to defend himself when people thought the worse of him. Instead he continues moving forward with any action, like that small beggar girl...how I thought the worse of him and he just grinned knowing that I was free to think the worse of him. She felt her cheeks warm thinking of her embarrassment, but soon the heat was replaced with anger, remembering how much he teased her through out it all and saying it was she who added more context to what was there.

Dimly she was aware of the woman Camilla leaving, her head lowered yet as she walked by Faendal joined her side and placed an arm around her waist. The two left the inn together, they entered the inn together and they appeared together, Lydia remembered Sven's face paling at the sight of Camilla, it was a man who realized that he had burnt his last bridge to a goal and the knowledge had forced him to run away. Faendal was with Camilla, and he had traveled with her Thane at one point, that was made clear with his words and knowledge her Thane should have won the fight easily.

Sooo...what connection did those three have with her Thane, Lydia mused as she removed her shield before resting her elbows upon the table top to cup rest her chin upon her folded hands as she stared towards the room. Closing her eyes, Lydia brought her mind to the moments before the fight occurred, she remembered her thane tensing up for a fight and then suddenly he went slack as the fist connected. He was expecting it but still let himself get struck, why would someone actually let someone else hit him.

Hmmm..., Lydia's mind worked through the scenes till she remembered what caused the man Sven to snap. My thane goaded the man into doing that, his words-anyone that lost something would go all out like that, it was like throwing a torch into a haystack.

Snapping her eyes open, "My Thane wanted to destroy the man's hope, that was his reason.", she didn't realize she said that out loud.

"I wager you would eventually get to the reason.", the woman from before moved from the post she was leaning against her arms folded to walk beside Lydia towards another room. As she passed, "What I want to know, is why he would he go that far, that is a troubling question.", with that the woman went into the room before closing the door, throughout this the man behind the bar continued to clean tankards-none of this was his business anyways.

For awhile Lydia sat pondering the woman's words, I wonder that too, she mused as she looked around the inn, noticing how dark it was now as she got up from the table. Making her way to the room where her Thane rested, a smile coming unbidden to her lips as she noticed that the healing magic and potions had healed her thane pretty well. Only a blackness around one eye was the only clue that he had been beaten to a near pulp only earlier.

Taking the chair across from the bed where her thane slept, his body needing the rest to recover its stamina now that the body was healed. She watched the man sleep, and couldn't let the smile go when she saw that grin was still plastered upon his sleeping lips. "You are annoying and vexing...but, you aren't entirely all that bad either. A man who would give hope to a child probably stole the hope from another for their own good, I just wish I could figure out what reason you had that made you think like that.", shaking her head Lydia leaned back, fingers laced behind her head as she gazed up at the flickering shadows dancing upon the roof rafters.

Sleep came slowly, but eventually the housecarl fell asleep, as night grew stronger the light of the candle vanished as a figure placed a blanket upon the still armored form of his unintended companion.

Softly a voice was heard in the darkness, a sorrow tinging the words, "A person who has lost hope can find a new hope for life strives forward knowing it might end. But what if the person has all the time in the world...perhaps its better to help those whose time is limited...eh...that is a pretty good idea, aye."

Sitting down upon the edge of his bed, Mickaelos stared at his hand now covered by darkness, yet in his mind he remembered holding his sister's hand. Adrial you knew my secret, and you placed all your hope upon your brother's shoulders and how I tried...oh how I tried. Clenching his hand into a fist, you died by seconds when your life neared its end, your older brother hadn't aged...who couldn't stay dead.

Falling back into his bed, Mickaelos closed his eyes, he still could remember that day he found out about his curse, the day he ran away from everything as Adrial called his name. "A man who cannot die, can no longer feel hope. How can he ever be the symbol when people need one the most...how can a man such as I be a Legend if hope cannot be found by a man such as I...", closing his eyes, he probably would not find that answer.


End file.
